When Lilacs Last in the Temple Bloomed

Posted on Thu 20th Apr, 2017 @ 4:31am by Lieutenant Commander Lanis Dhuro MD

1,086 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Wrongs Darker Than Death Or Night
Location: Scents of Love, Promenade
Timeline: After Lanis leaves Pub 10-42
Tags: dhurolanis

Lanis departed Pub 10-42 feeling both pleasantly full and appalled at himself. He had shamelessly wheedled Carlo Rienzi into making a pizza especially for him. It was disgraceful manners, the first time he had done such a thing since his distant childhood. At age six, in the Gallitep camp, his parents had impressed upon him the fact that the days of stopping at a shop with his mother for a jumja stick were eover and that he had best be grateful for and eat all of any food that was given to him, because precious little would be forthcoming.

I acted like some collaborator's spoiled child, he thought. Carlo shouldn't have humored me. I am getting soft in my dotage.

It was little moral consolation that, nowadays, he couldn't stand the overly-sweet taste of jumja candy. Lanis made a face at the thought of it as he walked. How he could have loved the stuff as a boy was beyond him.

A different kind of sweetness flitted past his nose, and Lanis glanced to his right at the scent of flowers. Even well into second shift the Scents of Love shop was brightly lit and filled with a profusion of blossoms in splashes of vivid color. In the front window, however, was a sight that made Lanis pause.

'Speak to Your Love in the Language of Flowers' a sign in the window read. Below it was a spray of delicate, pink flowers--dawnjoys, Lanis called them, because they looked like the sky at early sunrise on a clear morning, with soft, pink petals and yellow centers. Federation people called them Bajoran lilacs. Curious, Lanis walked over to read the sign.

Coming out of her shop to splash a little water on the greenery she had near the door, Flavia saw the doctor eyeing her window display. "We still have a couple left, if you'd like one," she called out to him, tilting the antique watering pot to spill its liquid into the pots.

"What is this language of flowers?" Lanis asked. "I've never heard of such a thing."

The florist smiled indulgently. "It isn't a language as we normally think of languages," she informed the doctor. "It is sometimes called floriography, and it's sort of a coded communication through the use or arrangement of flowers. Some form of floriography was practiced on old Earth for thousands of years, but it really reached its height of use and meaning in the 1800s, the time of Queen Victoria. Gifts of blooms, plants, and specific floral arrangements were used to send a coded message, allowing the sender to express feelings which could not be spoken aloud in Victorian society. Very restrictive times, you know."

Flavia finished her watering and leaned against her display window to continue. "For me, for our business, it's something to do for fun. The meanings which are most common are in Vanguard's database, because I added them myself. Anyone can look up the meaning of a bouquet you send ... if they know it has a meaning."

"So...are there meanings ascribed to Bajoran flowers?" Lanis asked. "I have to admit, I know more about Cardassia's history than I know of Bajor's--I had a very odd childhood, and the Bajoran books I read primarily had to do with medicine."

"Not really, but my daughter added one for these lilacs because she likes them so much. And why not? We have so many new species now, they should certainly be able to play the game, don't you think?" Flavia spoke tongue-in-cheek, but she really couldn't see any reason not to add a few more.

"She decided these lovely Bajoran lilacs mean remembrance, like Rosemary. It's a nice sentiment when added to the yellow dandelions, which mean faithfulness and the blue forget-me-nots which mean true love. Even without the meanings, it's a lovely combination, isn't it?"

"So the forget-me-nots don't mean remembrance?" Lanis queried. "That seems like a waste of a perfectly good flower name. Or would that have just been too predictable and boring?"

"Funny you should ask that. Or too bad for you that you did!" laughed Flavia. "Legend has it that God of Earth named all the plants when a tiny unnamed one cried out, 'Forget-me-not, O Lord! God replied, 'That shall be your name.' It has a long history, going back into Earth's medieval times, say 1200 years ago, of being a symbol of faithfulness and constant true love, used by king and commoner alike. So in spite of its name, true love is the meaning that sticks. Really, that's not so far from remembrance, is it? We tend to remember those we love the most, even when they're gone."

"We certainly do," Lanis replied. "I'd like an arrangement of Bajoran lilies, forget-me-nots, and dandelions, but I'd also like some of the lilacs in soil, if you can do that."

"For you, doctor, I can do whatever you wish. I do happen to have a few of the lilac plants, but I have to warn you that they will grow into quite a bush. They will also bloom year 'round in your quarters with the even temperature, so get used to the scent. Fortunately, it's light and won't overpower your guests." The florist led the surgeon back to her check out counter and the refrigerator where the bouquets were kept.

"Why don't you pick a bouquet out of the cooler, and I'll get a plant from the back for you." The getting didn't take long and, when Flavia returned, she had a lavender pot about a foot across at the top, with a small plant looking dwarfed in the center.

"Now remember, this is going to grow. It likes to be root bound, so you don't have to worry about getting a bigger pot for a long time. When the time comes, keep it trimmed to about three feet tall, and you should have a happy plant for a long time to come. Now would you like to take these with you, or should I have them delivered to your quarters?"

"I'll take the bouquet, but I'd like the potted plant delivered to my quarters," Lanis said. "And don't worry; I've had these things in my home before. My wife used to grow them. She would fuss over them like that old gardener down in Tivoli Gardens fusses over his tulips." He sniffed the bouquet he held and smiled. "I'm quite glad I saw these in your window."

 

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