These flowers are on the opposite end of their arc, contrary to my budding window sunflowers. Sean gave them to me when I returned from my girls’ trip last Monday.
I guess you could say they’re dying, but in their “older age” they are powerful. I could inhale the bouquet’s deep, mature rose scent forever. The reds are wilting into purple and yellow but maintain an elegant radiance. I see myself reflected in them, and them as a microcosm for life and everything.