Smell the Roses

I think it's time to tell this story again.

I saw something in my life experience that you don’t see very often. I watched a well-dressed man stop abruptly as if held by some invisible force. He was in a hurry, given his stride and determined pace, yet when he passed a public garden of blossoming roses the man suddenly stopped, put down his briefcase, and turned to face the beauty that bloomed there.

There were probably sixty rose bushes each with eight to ten blossoms festooning the prickly stems. It was a magnificent site. The plethora of color, in the softness of the morning light, stopped this busy man in his hurried quest. He stood there surveying the garden patch, spending a moment at each bush. His gaze stopped at a full bush of bright golden yellow blossoms. He reached down, not to pick, but gently touched or better yet caressed this gift of nature. He kept his hand there for a long moment as he once again glanced at the entire patch of color.

I thought how fortunate I was to be reminded, in such a tender observational way, that no matter the urgency of an appointment, or how focused we are in our thoughts, when nature chooses to embrace us with her beauty, and we choose to see it, that moment transforms our thoughts into a passion and we respond with awe. Thank you, Sir, for the reminder to take time and smell the roses.