Math Man brought me orange roses for my birthday last month. They are still on the dining room table, though long past their prime. They were amazing as they opened, and oddly enough have only grown more beautiful and fascinating - at least in my eyes. Once a single color, they are now striated a deep pink and yellow, as the pigments photobleach and separate. The colors intensified as the petals dry. The texture is richer as well, finely crinkled. Like my skin?Every day I think I should toss them, then I see them in the soft evening light and decide to admire them one more day...
I have some long hot red chiles hanging in my classroom that are several years old. I think I can relate to the beauty of aging.
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