The Rapture of Roses

by:  Mary Peterson

Webster describes "Rapture" as the '...state of being carried away with joy, love, etc., ecstasy. An expression of great joy, pleasure, etc. (rare) a carrying away or being carried away in body or spirit. (Poetic) To enrapture; fill with ecstasy...'

In most cases it begins simply, casually, almost without notice or fan-fare. For some it began as children and our first experiences were helping in the family garden or tending the roses around Grandma's house.  For others the interest in roses began gradually and each season new varieties fueled the desire to add 'just a few more' or 'try something new'.


Once you have indulged in the hobby and have had even a small amount of success, the desire to continue and to increase what you have becomes an obsession; a magnificent obsession.

No matter how much we try to deny it, or whatever we call it, interest, hobby, exercise, pleasure, or love, it can all be summed up in one word: Rapture.

There are so many facets involved, so many mediums of expression, art, photography, architecture, literature, poetry, cooking, decoration, religion and fragrance.

No matter how casual we may want to appear to others, there is still that deep-down, undeniable thrill of discovery and appreciation when we come face to face with the object of our affection.

To some there is a deep-rooted feeling of the physical side when we apply our efforts and skills in the garden. Sometimes this experience borders on reverence as we feel we are one with nature and our God, whatever we perceive him to be.

No matter how we began or what particular direction we take, there comes a day when we find we are breathless with excitement at the prospect of spring. We spend hours pouring over catalogs or texts describing roses. We talk about them, dream about them, sing about them, plan for them, import them, share them, trade them, hybridize new varieties and even change the face of the earth to accommodate them. We indulge in expensive treatments, fertilizers, pesticides and exotic incantations and formulas all guaranteed to bring us success.

But when we are alone in our garden, admiring some new growth development, a bud showing great promise, a flower in full bloom and fragrance or the petals as they gently fall to Mother earth, it becomes an experience that borders on a deeply religious revelation, one that affects over very basic nature. It colors our days and illuminates our nights.

It projects and propels us into the future. It binds us gently to the past with pale, silken bonds, always seeking, always questing, always searching. A never-ending journey of excitement, joy and thrill of discovery.

But to whatever degree we admit our involvement with roses, in our heart of hearts we can admit to be enraptured...a state of being carried away with great joy, love or 
pleasure...

Working in the garden can be a deeply religious experience as one can feel the warmth of the good earth pressed beneath your knees in a continuation of life from one generation to another. That special odor of the warm, moist earth, full of promises, dreams and expectations revives a flagging spirit.

Gardening can be frolic, a joy, a crazy exhilaration that is enjoyed by the very young and remembered fondly with a tinge of longing and yearning in our twilight years.
As we stand in our gardens and marvel at the orderly progression of the seasons, the Rapture begins.

From the cold and quiet season of rest, spring arrives with its renewed promise of things to come. The newly formed buds swell with careless abandon. Dew sparkles and bedecks each leaf and petal with droplets more precious than diamonds, and the Rapture continues.

Then on one warm early summer afternoon when you stand entranced and transfixed before the Queen of Flowers and find that she has encircled your heart with an unbreakable bond, we realize that the Rapture is complete.

And when the day comes when we stand alone and regard our roses, thinking about that certain someone special who used to stand beside us drinking in their beauty and tears spring unbidden to our eyes, may our roses give once more a measure of Rapture to soothe our aching heart. 

May their glorious beauty restore, uplift, and strengthen us. Though grief may be the price we pay for having loved someone, our roses know that from the wintry darkness comes the renewed promise of another glorious day.

Smell the sweet fragrance of the Rapture of Roses.

Touch them and feel the Rapture of Roses.

Hold them close to your heart and savor the Rapture of Roses.

The Rapture, The Rapture, The Rapture of Roses.