The Whisperer of Blooming Flowers

When it comes to flowers, I am the epitome of naivety. I have no experience in the world of plants. All I see are red, blue and yellow.

Don’t get me wrong here; I enjoy the flowers. However, when it comes to names, I am off the planet. I don’t need to know the name of a flower to really enjoy that flower. Instead, I enjoy the fragrance and optics of a row of flowers.

If you were to take care of the flowers, they would not last more than 24 hours. Just because you like something doesn’t mean you know how to take care of something.

On the other side of this marital relationship, the Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage is quite adept when it comes to plant life and flower development. He grew up on a farm and his father was a farmer, so he understands how to care for plants.

Being the kind husband that I am, I give him a lot of space in this area. However, I know what to stay away from, and this is one of them.

I know that if one of her flowers were not the way she wanted, she would not be a happy planter. So to encourage her in this area, I stay away from flowers. Instead, I admire them from afar and congratulate my wife on her beauty. That gives me some congratulations and I need as many as I can.

A couple of weeks ago, when I went through the glass door that opens onto the porch area, I heard my wife speak. Not wanting to interfere, I assumed he was talking to our neighbors. That happens a lot. I’m not saying it is in the “gossip” area, but it comes very close.

I just wrote that down and got on with my day. The next day I heard the same thing, but I didn’t understand what he was saying; I just assumed that, again, he was talking to our neighbor.

This happened quite a few times and I, being of the strain of humanity’s curiosity, wanted to know who I was talking to and what they were talking about.

I’m not talking about gossip, but I do like to listen to gossip to find out what’s going on in the world.

Trying to listen, I heard her say, “Oh, you look so beautiful today.”

That got my attention. I never heard the neighbors talk about being beautiful. So I just shrugged like a neighborhood goof.

One day later, as I was walking through the door, I heard her say, “Don’t worry about the rain. I’ll take care of you.”

Then he said something funny: “I’ll be careful and I promise this won’t hurt; it’s something I have to do.”

So I listened, clip, clip, clip.

“Look”, I heard her say with a lot of affection, “I told you that it would not hurt. So now you will look much more beautiful.”

At that moment, he didn’t want to know what was going on in the world. I couldn’t even imagine who he was talking to and what was going on.

My dilemma was, should I go and pretend I haven’t heard anything? Now, should I go out and find out for myself what was going on?

I have a philosophy that once you step foot in a pool of water, you can never get rid.

Then I heard: “Don’t worry, my friend, I’ll call you soon.”

At this point, I have had enough. No matter what it cost me, I was going to find out what was going on.

I opened the door, stepped out onto the porch, and said, “Who are you talking to?”

She looked at me, gave me one of her infectious smiles and said, “I’m talking to my flowers. Aren’t they beautiful?”

Being a husband for as long as I have been, I know what it’s like to be in a position where you don’t know what to say. Unfortunately, this was not one of them.

For someone to talk to the flowers was pretty silly as far as I’m concerned.

After a short pause, I replied, “Do you ever reply to me?”

Laughing for a moment, he replied, “Silly boy, they are flowers and flowers do not speak.”

Then she went back to her flowers and I could hear her still talking to them. Evidently her conversation with them was working because all the flowers were blooming so well.

I went back to my office and began to ponder this. I can understand talking to a dog or a cat or even a horse. But when you talk to a flower, it just doesn’t make sense to me.

On further reflection, if talking to flowers is beneficial to their growth, who am I to question? The end result is the flower, and that is what we appreciate.

As I pondered this, I decided to look up some scriptures along this line and found one that blessed my heart. “Flowers appear on the earth; the time has come for the birds to sing, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land” (Song of Songs 2:12).

I suppose from my wife’s point of view, the delicacy and fragrance of a blossoming flower are in the voice that comforts her. When God speaks to me, I also flourish.