In the previous two blogs I noted the difference in the way things look at night and expressed a personal sentiment that I draw analogies between flowers and women, in that vein I was going to title this blog women of the night.
Didn’t take long to realize a negative connotation could be associated with that, so I opted for children of the night and then remembered in an early Dracula movie I had seen Dracula when listening to wolves howl called them children of the night.
I can live with that as the cinematic Dracula is a fictional character and wolves are children not just of the land but of the night as well with “the music they make”, nocturnal song fests – songs that stir primordial memories.
I remember as a child asking grandmother if flowers folding their petals at night mean’t they were sleeping and why would they need to sleep as they always stayed in the same place and didn’t do any work?
Grandmother said yes night is when they sleep much the same as all living things do with exceptions – then went on to explain to me the many ways in which they do work from producing nectar for bees who in turn make honey to smiling at us when we draw near.
The smiling puzzled me a little and so I asked how do they smile and grandmother kind of laughed and said with the pretty face paint they show us and the fragrance they offer.
Changed my entire perspective about flowers and I’ve had a greater appreciation for them every since even though I had been taught that all that surrounded us were living things worthy of respect.
We were sitting outside at night when I asked her this, she went on to say if you speak the right words or sing the right song that flowers would awaken and open their “ears” to listen and maybe I should give it a try.
I wasn’t sure what to say and didn’t know any “flower” songs being only five or six years old so I didn’t have much success other than what I imagined were slight movements.
Grandmother took over where I left off and within moments the movement of the flowers we were near could not be mistaken as my imagination or even a breeze.
When their petals actually began to open it was like an out of body experience for me, I had a feeling I couldn’t describe other than to say I was lighter than air.
Having finished her song grandmother said the flowers needed their rest just as I did and time for me to go to bed – I’ve kind of smiled over the years in remembering how grandmother worked in it was my bedtime – clever woman.
Some things you may forget, others you might dismiss as you grow older, but not this.
Some might say this a cute story, a child’s story predicated upon a child’s imagination or even a dream – problem with that is as an adult I’ve seen grandmother give the same lesson to her grandchildren.
I don’t know these songs and without ever having asked to be taught them I believe they are no less the songs of women than those our mothers sang to as us as infants and children.
If that is true I think it appropriate in a world that seems intent on humanity becoming an amorphous genderless entity as I believe there are gender specific gifts and abilities that serve to balance relationships and all things.