"Beneath the bitter snows lies the seed that with the sun’s love in the spring becomes the rose" *
source: http://www.oneof365.com/just-remember-in-the-winterfar-beneath-the-bitter-snows-lies-the-see...
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- jrn
- added this
*By Bette Midler--"The Rose"
It begins....
Roses represent life and death. They adorn coffins and newborn's bedrooms. Snag a finger on a thorn and you bleed, but make it to the top and you get to the heart of the flower and benefit from its growth. But a rose without a scent? Why that's like a violin without strings! I think this world has become so mass-produced that it is even taking the most natural things away from nature.
"I went into a florist and saw the most delightful array of roses. Crimson reds with blackened borders. Blush pinks that looked the same shade as ballerina’s tutus. Yellow the color of custard. White’s purer than the fluffiest cloud. I touched their delicate petals and their texture was fragile but strong enough to withstand just enough pressure to let my fingertips glide along their ridges. Long green stems with glistening, emerald colored leaves were placed amongst yellowed thorns.
And, sticking my nose into this magnificent array of beauty—-I smelled nothing. I expected to be hit with glistening florals, sparkly citrus and mind-blowing musks. But all I smelled was an icy-wet odor of stale refrigeration and wet grass. What a horrible illusion these beautiful sirens were!......"
READ THE FULL STORY AT WWW.ONEOF365.COM
It begins....
Roses represent life and death. They adorn coffins and newborn's bedrooms. Snag a finger on a thorn and you bleed, but make it to the top and you get to the heart of the flower and benefit from its growth. But a rose without a scent? Why that's like a violin without strings! I think this world has become so mass-produced that it is even taking the most natural things away from nature.
"I went into a florist and saw the most delightful array of roses. Crimson reds with blackened borders. Blush pinks that looked the same shade as ballerina’s tutus. Yellow the color of custard. White’s purer than the fluffiest cloud. I touched their delicate petals and their texture was fragile but strong enough to withstand just enough pressure to let my fingertips glide along their ridges. Long green stems with glistening, emerald colored leaves were placed amongst yellowed thorns.
And, sticking my nose into this magnificent array of beauty—-I smelled nothing. I expected to be hit with glistening florals, sparkly citrus and mind-blowing musks. But all I smelled was an icy-wet odor of stale refrigeration and wet grass. What a horrible illusion these beautiful sirens were!......"
READ THE FULL STORY AT WWW.ONEOF365.COM
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