Gabrielle’s Magical Notebook

He would always remember the first time he saw her. It was the most awkward time in the season to meet the female of your dreams. He was all sharp edges and gawky height. His petals had just unfurled and were just working towards their proper color. His leaves were still yellowish and he was pretty sure there was a caterpillar somewhere on his stem. He felt as young as a sprout and as smooth as a gravel path when he looked as her, but she- Well, as he always told her, she was perfect.

Being that close to her was worth every minute in the rocky soil he’d been planted in. He’d had to send his roots down further than the other plants and so he was one of the last flowers to bloom. The other flowers towered over him and took most of the sun, but he took what he could get and figured having to stretch for it would help him grow taller. And from where he was planted he could look at her through the other flowers and over the ground cover and she need never see him.

She was beautiful even compared to the other tall flowers soaking up the sun. Her head was perfectly round and full of the brightest petals he’d ever seen. He liked watching her sway in the breeze and drink up the rain. He loved the way the sunlight made her dark stem and leaves turn bright like a smile. He knew he was being obvious, but never cared. He would stretch for his bit of sunlight and watch her. To his mind she was the best that could ever be.

The winter months were hard for him. He curled up around himself and tried to go to sleep, but he couldn’t stop worrying about her. She looked so fragile. And that winter was especially cold. The soft blanket of snow didn’t come until late and the flowers huddled together as the wind bit into them and froze the water in their veins. The short flower found his height, or lack of it, useful as the other flowers’s long stems bent all around him. He was terrified she would bend and break as the cold only got worse and worse.

The snow eventually came and with it the bliss of sleep. The flower made sure she had gotten plenty of snow to keep her warm and safe and then gathered some around himself and fell asleep until spring and warmth and sun would waken him again.

Spring came and brought some warmth with it, but seemed to have forgotten the sun and packed rain instead. The flower was woken by rain, rain, rain hitting all around him. He just shrugged his shoulders and stretched. Living on just a bit of sunlight was normal for him. So while all the flowers around him waited for the sun to reign again he just started growing and blooming. Which is why when she woke up he was the first thing she saw, standing tall and straight in the rain.

She was so glad he never noticed her watching him. She felt so awkward when she’d just bloomed and was sure that such a fine flower would never look at her even once. She felt like she was all ragged edges and gangly stem. She really didn’t like all this rain and wished and sighed for the sun while he just stood in the rain like he’d been planted for it. She was torn between hiding from him and preening so that he would notice her so she did both. She would stretch out her petals and sway in the breeze she pretended was blowing past until she felt so silly she would hide her face and hope he hadn’t noticed.

Eventually the rains stopped and the other flowers began growing and blooming. But this time he towered over the others where she could still see him. She snuck little glances throughout the season while the sun shone and the birds sang. A few times she thought she saw him looking at her, but knew she was just imagining things. She tried to focus on growing up and growing bright.

It was a good season for the flowers that year. Plenty of sun, lots of rain, green ground cover to hide their feet and friendly bees to play with. But soon the summer rolled into autumn which faded away into winter. The flower gathered snow around herself and took a last, long look at him as he went to sleep. Then she laid her head down and did the same.

Normally waking in the spring was a smooth, slow process. First, he felt some sensation in his stem and then the feeling of heat on his head and then he’d open with the accompanying stretching and yawning. Not so this time. All of a sudden he was fully awake and open. He looked around for what had woken him, but saw nothing strange or unusual. Whatever it was it had woken just one other flower. A very startled, very pretty flower.

She never liked waking up, but this time had been the worst. No slow process just suddenly awake. She shook her head and looked around her. And then she looked at him, the only other flower that was awake. She looked at him and blushed all the out to the tips of her petals when she saw he was looking at her.

There was really no reason not to say something to her, he thought. They could talk about what had woken them up. They could talk about the weather, the winter, spring, really anything in the garden bed, but all he did was stare at her.

Time slowed to a strained crawl as the silence stretched between them. If one of them didn’t say something soon she was sure she was going to scream.

It was time, he told himself. He would say something clever and witty and then she would laugh and they would, well, he wasn’t sure about the next step, but he knew he needed to do something. So he shook the dew off his leaves and said, “Hi.”

She imagined a confident and graceful smile on her face and did a tense, nervous one instead. “Hello”, she said.

They stared at each other, neither having any idea of what to say next. So he smiled at her and she smiled back. It was a good beginning.