As lockdown lifts and daffodils start to pop their heads up around campus, we decided that the theme for this month’s showcase would be ‘rejuvenate’. Here is what Georgia came up with!
I had been in there ages. Cramped and cooped up without so much as a blade of grass separating me and my siblings. Their floral perfume had turned to an earthy stench over the winter; an aroma I much wanted to rid myself of. Then again, they would probably say the same about me. I was hardly at my most fragrant.
I had grown tired with seeing their rotund bodies rolling about day in, day out. They didn’t even roll about on the daily, not unless someone opened the drawer in which we were kept, sending us whizzing around like we were on the dodgems. I say whizzing, but that’s a bit of an exaggeration. Without sunlight and nutrients, our movements were piloted by gravity and force, so an unwelcome shudder was often as much as we managed, our wooden bodies knocking into one another like conkers.
I longed to turn back the clocks to last summer, when my siblings and I were all in bloom; a plethora of golden trumpets playing the sweetest of nature’s tunes. Bees had buzzed busily around our heads, people had admired us, photographed us, appreciated us. We had been strong yet sumptuous, elegant and exquisite and pleasing. And then look at me now. A boring brown bulb stuck in an old chest of drawers like a caged hen.
But then I know I look back through rose-tinted glasses. I know I had got tired – I had begun to wilt and droop. My head had stopped gazing up at the sun and had become fixated on the sodden soil which secured me. I wished for it to swallow me up, to save me from the constant clicking of cameras and flapping of dragonfly wings. I know I had needed a rest.
At first this hibernation had been a comfort. When the cold weather had reared its head, being rescued from the ground by a warm hand had felt a luxury. For the first few months I did nothing but sleep. It was nice to be surrounded by four safe walls and my brothers and sisters. It was nice to just be able to sit, to not always have to be on show. Sleeping got tiring though, as did sitting around. As soon as the lambs started bleeting, I knew spring had been found.
And we were found soon after, by the one whom had saved us from the earth. Contradictory I know, but by putting us back in the soil it felt like he was our savor again. I itched to be able to poke my head up into a fresh breeze and flutter and dance amongst birds and trees. Although granted, I knew I’d never grow to such a height as the great oak which shielded me from the rain, but then I guess he’d never glow as brightly as a daffodil.
Summer tasted sweeter, this second time around. I felt rejuvenated, hungry for life, ready to dance under the clouds.
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