“The rose that lives its little hour is prized beyond the sculptured flower.” From a poem by William C. Bryant, A Scene on the Banks of the Hudson.
Last weekend I began a dried rose project, but the beauty of the petals sidetracked me. Their texture and color, and the way they crumbled into a fine dust, fascinated me.
The story ideas began to flow when I came to the rose in this image. As I clipped across the top of the rose, I saw the circular layers of petals, intact after years of sitting in a vase. For some reason, that sight caused me to think about the layers of joys and troubles that circle a person from birth.
Notes i jotted down:
- A woman named Rose (surprise!) hates her life. She feels abandoned, empty, and betrayed.
- Rose chooses a failing bush in a public rose garden next to her workplace. She decides that she will end her life when the last bud has bloomed, withered, and fallen.
- Rose watches a person who visits the garden daily and collects the fallen petals from her bush. At first, she is curious and looks forward to the visits — the collection occurs in a unique way — but she soon begins to feel resentment. The rose petal collector’s simple activity is stirring up new emotions in Rose and interfering with her plan.
That’s all I have for now. I don’t know why the idea of Rose being suicidal came up in my thoughts. Be assured, though, that I plan to write a story that lifts our Rose up and out of that pit. Look for portions of the story to show up here on the blog.
Do you love dried flowers, too? Visit my Instagram feed to see other rose images from my project.