The Rose Bush--Pt. II

Our little rose bush had never been so ecstatically happy with his new appendages that allowed him great freedom to walk about and touch and learn so many exciting things, to assuage his new curiosity, to discover the joys of the world, to feel the other flowers, to experience the emotion in the environment, and to know what was previously unknown, to love and to be loved, to bask in the bakery of life's desserts, and mostly to partake in all the pleasures presented on the plate.

It was not that the little rose bush had been unhappy with his life as a typical rose bush, rather he had always known contentment and total acceptance of his position in life, not in a sense of resignation as to his own constrained existence, but, since he knew of nothing more, there was no desire for anything greater. Awareness of the other hill often leads to curiosity, which leads to desire for the grass on the other hill, which leads to a lack of satisfaction, which leads to envy and anger. Our little rose bush, however, did not know those emotions since there was no need to experience them and no reason for those feelings.

Walking and touching, the little rose bush found so many wonderful things and even some friends he did not know he had, including worms, caterpillars, spiders, crickets, aphids, and a small but lively bunny rabbit whose goal was to eat and hop, eat and hop. At first the other animals looked at the little rose bush rather strangely, but given the limited capacity to process information, they shortly accepted the oddity of a rose bush with arms, legs, and hands with 7 fingers. Soon everyone not only tolerated each others' differences and respected each others' strengths, each character seemed to draw abilities from the other to create a type of commune not unlike the balance achieved in nature's ecosystem of checks and balances.

The garden was a rich culture of plants, flowers, vegetables, and small fruit trees, all in various stages of growth but all equally healthy displaying the kind of personal attention and love necessary for vitality and beauty. The colors, with green being the prominent hue, were varied and included red, blue, pink, tan, orange, white, and many variations in between. The plants stood tall and received an appropriate balance of sunshine, water, shade, and the occasional natural fertilizer provided by wandering animals. It was a garden deserving of awards and a garden that projected love and physical and emotional health. A place to read, to sleep, to meditate, and to learn, both the plants and the animals. A place of rest, beauty, grandeur, and magnificence. A place for Everyman or in this case, every rose bush.

All were very happy especially the little rose bush who was full of the bliss of newness having never experienced anything so glorious in his previous life as an immobile, albeit beautiful rose bush in a garden by a lovely home in which resided a nice family. Strangely, the family continued its usual activities of checking the garden, leaving the home to run errands, and eating food appropriate to humans but not appetizing at all to the little rose bush. Yet, he was shocked that no family member acknowledged his new look, almost as though each person considered a walking and touching rose bush to be a common occurrence in the garden. Not only were they oblivious, they also seemed rather rude as they pruned, raked, pulled, and organized the garden.

What had henceforth been accepted by the rose bush as human behavior beneficial to the continued existence and success of the garden, now was invasive and violent. He was a little concerned about this and asked his new friends about it, "Why are those people who used to be nice, attacking our sweet garden and being mean?" His friends the insects said, "They are doing what they always do. It is neither nice nor mean." This answer confused the little rose bush who decided to ignore the humans and the insects and walk around some more touching all the things he could see. He sang a pretty song as he strolled through the garden,

"I am a little rose bush,
With brand new hands and legs.
In the garden I walk along,
And avoid the dirt with dregs.

It all seems rather new,
As I learn about what I see,
I am nervous about the future,
Hope I don't hit a tree."

He noticed that the bunny rabbit had run away and he wondered idly if his voice was unsatisfactory or if he just wasn't a good song writer. Since he had no way to compare the quality of his voice or his song to anyone or anything, he was perfectly contented with it and continued singing regardless of the lack of an appreciative audience.