Gratitude for the Genius of Flowers
And why Darwin called them “an abominable mystery”
100 million or so years ago, a newcomer changed the world and invited us into the game. It was a small game with a new rule: FLY! Vegas odds were against the tiny being, but, once again, the underdog won. Actually, we all won.
In his essay "How Flowers Changed the World," the American naturalist Loren Eiseley tells a story of evolution more dramatic even than the dinosaurs that get all the publicity. Turns out that while the great apes might be our aunts and uncles, the spark of our being is an encased seed, deemed an angiosperm, lovingly called “flower” by speakers of English.
Warning: Although the science behind this is well-documented, I speak mainly from metaphor. My apologies and gratitude to the scientists who plumb the mysteries that inspire me.
How could this be?
This question was spawned at Santa Barbara’s oldest and biggest used book sale where a tiny book took root in my overfull book bag and was the first to jump out and say, “Read me!”
Lured by their bursting colors and infinite variety, I have long been a photographer of flowers. Little did I know, I wouldn’t be here without them. Don’t ask me how, but somewhere back eons ago, in a cold, dark, monotonous green world, some bit of life jumped the gap and figured out how to wrap nutrition about a sperm cell.
Life exploded in what Darwin called “an abominable mystery,” because they (angiosperms) appeared so suddenly and spread so fast.(1) Because potential life now came with it’s own meal pack, it could travel … by animal fur, wind, or exploding pods.
New life would fly.
Over millions of years, angiosperms turned into artists, painting color and texture across the drab landscape. With a bit of mad scientist thrown into the mix, this conquering hoard has whipped up a multi-sensory assault to lure the world into its plans: colors to dazzle, smells to delight and disgust, textures to deceive, sweet tastes to detain, and even vibrations and sounds to distribute their prolific possibilities.
Without a brain in their heads, they have domesticated us.
In service of, and gratitude for, them, I have started my next photo book with the intention of sharing it with you before the holidays. Here are the first pages …
Read more: Seeing Flowers in a New Way, Through Loren Eiseley, NPR, August 17, 20061:11 PM ET, by Chris Lehmann
I like flowers but not good on their names and of course I like a good bookstore but I love books
Thank you for this lovely post. I worked as a self-taught landscaper for over fifteen years. I knew and understood my flowers/plants/trees by sight, but often only committed to memory their common names. I could spend the rest of my days learning their botanical names, which would be a lovely pursuit. But instead, I will likely opt to just enjoy caring for my faves. It's all good.