(To my future wife)
Flowers. Only God knows how the world would have been without
them. Perhaps colorless. Therefore the Great Artist seeing how
unbeautiful the earth would have looked like in the absence of
these plants, decided to add them as a finishing stroke in his
canvas. So God said: “Let there be flowers.” And there were
flowers. And God looked and saw that they were very good.
Very good? Very good! Because flowers are beautiful things, they
have delighted all creation. Birds and insects won’t leave them
alone. Some have died sucking their nectar. Wild animals gaze at
these masterpieces of creation. And humans have put them to
better uses as gifts and objects of decoration in selected
places.
But God was not choosy when he decorated the earth with these
plants. Flowers can be found everywhere: on volcanic peaks (the
Tower of jewels in Canary islands); in the Alps and Pyrenees
(the Carline thistles); in the wild (the English iris); on
mountain tops (the mountain houseleek or the better name,
live-forever); in tropical forests (the Bromeliads); in the
deserts (the primroses and lilacs of Death Valley, California);
on the sea (the lotus). And in whatever clime you find them,
they are a beauty to behold.
Because of this, women have enhanced their beauty by wearing a
garland of flowers on their heads or around their necks—from the
ubiquitous Hibiscus flower to the majestic Rose flower. But
flowers have played ignominious roles too. Like what?
It is common to send a bouquet of flowers to loved ones. And
women have been wooed and won by them. Flowers with names like
Queen of the night and Morning-glory work magic. On the
contrary, flowers have been used to send negative messages by
estranged lovers to one another. In this infamous group are
Touch-me-not and Forget-me-not. God didn’t think of such roles
when he created them.
Neither did he consider them as national symbols. The beautiful
daffodil or the musical long name, daffodowndilly, has become
the national symbol of Wales. Not the whales of the sea but
Wales the republic. Then clan of the former is reputed for
swallowing run-away prophets. Ask Jonah. But Wales, the nation,
is not alone in this respect. Which land comes next?
Barbados, the tourists’ paradise, popular for her pristine
surrounding and lovely beaches. Famous for her hospitality and
rich culture. None of these, however, has popularized this
island more than a simple flower—the Pride of Barbados.
What name, Pride of Barbados! If you are in temperate lands, you
may not live to see this flower. Even if you waited for 76
years. You might only see Halley’s Comet—that is if you can
cheat death. For none sees it twice. Mark Twain didn’t. Pride of
Barbados is a tropical flower. So you have to travel to the land
of abundant sunshine to behold it. What if you live in the
tropical climate but are yet to see this flower?
Then let me show you the flower as we walk in your garden.
Sorry, it isn’t there. The 10 to 15 feet Dwarf Poinciana or
Flower Fence, which blooms all year round, could be found in
your fence. We see many flowers as we inspect your fence. But
look at the fiery red or yellow one with five petals and yellow
margins whose fifth petal is smaller than the other four. As you
examine the flower, be mindful of its prickly branches. You will
notice that it has large leaves with many small leaflets. You
will also find out that each flower is about 11/2 inches across
with five sepals. You will equally discover that the ten
stamens—with colored filaments and anthers at the tips—are long
and that pistils project from the center of the flower. You have
seen the Pride of Barbados! The red variety appears on the
Barbados Coat of Arms and is the National flower of Barbados.
But which is your favorite flower?
We seem to liken our best flower to a loved one. Consider this:
if you have a lover, to what would you compare her? A Morning
rose or a sun flower? Certainly not a bramble. Or a thorn tree.
But there lived women in times past, who were bramble and thorn
trees. And they still live today. God deliver thee from their
hands. And may the good Lord not give me thorns and brambles.
Give me not Samson’s bride who will give my riddles to my
detractors. Or a nagging Delilah that would lay bare the secret
of my success and bring me to an untimely grave. But do give me
a woman with the tenacity of Juliet and sensibility of Abigail.
Give me not Agememnon’s wife, the unfaithful Klytaimestra, who
murdered the warrior for the love of Aigisthos. But give me
Penelope, daughter of Ikarios, and tenacious wife of the much
endearing man, Odysseus.
Give me not a wicked Jezebel the exterminator of imaginary foes,
or a Marozia, Donna Senatrix of Rome, killer of popes and “holy
men.” But give me a godly lady like the beautiful Queen Esther
of Susa—shapely like a sculptor’s handiwork, skin like cinnamon,
eyes like the dove’s and feet like the gazelle’s. And Minerva
grant me the power to compose sweet poems for fair maiden.
Give me not Helen or a Lucretia, the causes of many fights and
sorrows. Rather give me a Queen Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, a
woman hard to woo by men. Or a La Gioconda—the stately Mona Lisa
with the bewitching smile.
I do not desire a Queen of Sheba, the wealthy visitor of wise
Solomon, who lacking honor ended up on the bed of the libidinous
king. But give me the shepherd boy’s wife, the Shulammite, “a
garden barred,” “a spring sealed up,” and “a wall,” with
“breasts like towers,” shunning “circlets of gold” and “studs of
silver.” May her breasts like a cluster of pomegranates,
continue to tickle me till my dying day. Let her very bosom
delight my soul from summer to spring and from autumn to winter.
May I be in the ecstasy when she plants her sweet lips on mine
as I look into her dreamy eyes. Let her angelic fingers caress
my bones as we lay by the fireside in winter confirming our love
to each other. May her rich mellifluous voice liven my spirit
and make my day.
Let her—my Penelope, my Juliet, my Abigail—be beside me in my
sleeping and waking hours. May she—my Esther, my Elizabeth, my
Mona Lisa, my Shulammite—be with me in fair and in bad weather.
Let her be the majestic flower in the fence of my country home.
Let her be the flower of all seasons—purveyor of joy, harbinger
of happiness. Let her be my forever red and yellow petals—
yellow for sun rise, red for sunset— unfailing as the sun.
Let her, even she—my love, my life—be the pride of paradisaic
islands in far away waters.
Let her be my Pride of Barbados!
(GIVE THIS ESSAY AND A BUNCH OF MY PRIDE OF BARBADOS TO THE
DEAREST WOMAN IN YOUR LIFE)
Arthur Zulu is an editor, book reviewer, and published author.
The controversial writer gives FREE helps to young writers in
editing, ghost writing, reviewing, and publishing their works.
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