For me a rose means so much more than just a beautiful flower. We all know it is one of the most recognized and cherished flowers in the world. It hardly needs an introduction. One look is enough to realize you are standing before the queen of flowers. Whenever I look at a rose, I always sense its noble and unique aura. Thinking about its thousands of years of history, its character, its fragrance... I cannot help but admire it. At the same time, I feel a certain respect. It is gifted, grown in gardens, praised in poems, protected and even feared at times. A symbol where passion, pain, beauty and power all come together.
Sometimes I find myself wondering where the rose originally comes from. I discovered that wild roses are native to Asia, the Middle East and Southern Europe. In ancient Persia and China, people planted them in gardens both for their scent and beauty. Over time, the rose became the centerpiece of gardening. In Ancient Rome, its petals were scattered at feasts. In the Middle Ages, it became a symbol of the Virgin Mary. During the Renaissance, it stood for love and the mystery of beauty. In seventeenth-century France, the rose finally claimed its place as the highest expression of garden art. These little facts always fascinate me. They make me feel like I am traveling through history.
Every summer feels like a new discovery of a different kind of rose. There are just so many. Shrub roses, ground covers, miniatures, climbers... Their bud size, number of petals, scent and especially their colors each carry a unique meaning. Every one of them gives me a different feeling. Red stands for passion and love. White means innocence and purity. Pink reminds me of grace. Yellow brings friendship and joy. Sometimes it even suggests jealousy. Orange always gives me a sense of inspiration and warmth. As for black roses, I have always kept some distance. They remind me of mystery and farewell.
The varieties seem endless. Tea roses, floribunda, grandiflora, old English types. Whenever I see a new kind, I think to myself, what else could possibly be done? Yet breeders always find a way to surprise me. Some bloom all summer. Some resist diseases. Some come in unexpected colors like lavender or green. There are even varieties with no scent at all for those who prefer it that way. On the other hand, some have intense fragrances that captivate you. Sometimes I wonder how anyone can possibly choose among so many.
I have to admit, though, a rose is not an easy flower to care for. When I tried growing it in my own garden, I realized you need good soil, sunlight, regular pruning and protection against fungi and pests. But I also noticed something else. If you put in the effort, the rose rewards you generously. By mid-summer, the branches are covered in buds. Some bloom once in all their glory. Others bloom again and again. Some seem to keep going until the end of autumn as if they are thanking me with every new flower.
I believe a rose never settles for just being beautiful. For centuries, it has been used in perfumes, cosmetics and even cooking. Rosewater, rose oil, jam... Whenever I drink a cup of rose tea in the morning, I feel incredibly good. The taste, the benefits for my skin and my body are undeniable. As someone who has experienced its calming effect in aromatherapy, I can honestly say it brings balance and peace.
Its place in culture fascinates me just as much. You find it in poetry, literature, paintings, legends and even religious symbols. The World Rose, The Name of the Rose, the rose in The Little Prince... Every time I come across these works, I am reminded that a rose is never just a flower. It stands for love, time, eternity and sometimes a treasured memory.
But what impresses me the most is the contrast behind its beauty. The thorns. Whenever I hold a rose, those thorns always seem to whisper a simple truth. Beauty is not meant to be too easily reached. You have to respect its boundaries. That is why a rose has never felt like a fragile flower to me. It feels strong, proud and elegant. As if it says, not everyone can just take me. Only those who respect me can come close.
To me, a rose is never just a classic. It is a flower with a distinct personality. Sometimes graceful, sometimes powerful, sometimes delicate and sometimes dramatic. It fits perfectly in a bouquet on a first date. It suits a moment of mourning just as well. It belongs in my garden, on a coat of arms, on the pages of a novel or even next to my morning coffee cup.
A rose never stays in the background. It is always the star, always in the spotlight. Maybe that is why it never goes out of style.
And every time I see it bloom, I think to myself.
Sometimes a single blooming rose is enough to express everything you want to say.