I grew up in a world of flowers.
From the time I was a child, I spent much of my time at my family’s flower shop. For decades, it was one of the busiest florists in Kansas City—and it was my happy place. I also did nearly every job there until it recently closed. I pulled weeds and watered plants in the greenhouses, processed stock, answered phones, designed, delivered and cleaned. I loved that fragrant, light-filled, flower-abundant place.
Each week, we’d process, design and deliver thousands of flowers. It was hard work, long holiday weeks and so much fun at that shop. Sometimes, among the oceans of flowers there, one or two would stop me. It might be a rose or ranunculus, an orchid or gardenia. For different reasons, these special flowers took my breath away. Each time, I’d think, “I’ve never seen a flower so beautiful.”
From the time I started taking pictures of flowers, that awe and reverence have been part of every photo shoot. And, whether in a shop, greenhouse, garden, field, or on a trail, one or two flowers will nearly bring me to tears.
This happened one Sunday last summer at Loose Park Rose Garden. The August morning was hot and humid and the roses were flourishing. The garden exploded with color, blooms and buds on every bush. Rose fragrance perfumed the air and the dew was like unmelted sparkling ice on the petals and leaves.
Across the garden, a row of bushes draped with blooms caught my eye and I headed that way. Swirling pearl and pink champagne, these roses looked like quinceañera ball gowns, the frothy, opulent blossoms celebrating life.
I turned my camera on and the moment I focused, one rose caught my eye. I lowered my camera to look. It was a heart. Its velvety petals folded and wrapped around each other in perfect symmetry.
I’d never seen a truly heart-shaped rose, and this wasn’t a heart shape I needed to use any imagination to see. It was obvious, observable, big as life. I started taking more pictures of this magical flower when a little boy and his father stopped next to me. The boy walked up to the rose.
“That rose is heart shaped,” I whispered to him. He’d already seen it.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. He didn’t reply. He saw how beautiful it was.
“The heart is his favorite shape,” said the boy’s father and the boy looked at me.
It’s mine, too,” I said and smiled at them.
While I took more pictures, I glanced at this child in love with a rose. It seemed he saw flowers like I did when I was a child. And still do.
I wondered if he was thinking, “I’ve never seen a flower so beautiful.”
There are two ways to live: you can live as if nothing is a miracle; you can live as if everything is a miracle.
Albert Einstein
