Smelling the roses…

I started work on my master’s degree in computer science in January of 2008. I don’t specifically remember, but I suspect it was cold outside, since I was in Muncie, Indiana. The temperature really doesn’t matter, since the point I’m leading up to is that the campus was quite void of growing and flowing plants at that time, or at least it seemed that way.

I had driven through campus on many occasions during the nearly thirty years I had lived in town, but seldom spent any amount of time walking on campus. Being a student meant that I got to do that now. When one walks, one has a bit more time to observe their surroundings. Having the time and actually doing it can be two different things, however. In January there didn’t seem to be much that was worth looking at. I found that changed a couple of months later as spring approached.

I quickly discovered the Ball State University grounds staff does a wonderful job of maintaining a myriad of flower beds and other plantings all over the campus. They swap flowers in and out of many of these beds multiple times throughout the growing season. Early in the spring, and late in the fall, they put in hardy flowers that can withstand cold temperatures. In the midst of the summer you’ll find they’ve placed heat-tolerant flowers in the same beds. If one is a bit observant, one can find something new to look at from month to month as the seasons progresses.

But I found that one of my favorite flowers had been present the whole time—even back in January when I started classes—I just hadn’t taken time to notice them. As spring brought warmth, the dead-looking stems of the campus’ many rose bushes started to break forth in green leaves. It wasn’t too long after that the innumerable red blooms started to appear. Seeing something that appeared dead spring back to a vibrant life was wonderful.

Upon a bit of reflection I realized that the rose bushes were not unlike myself. I had just come through a fall of unemployment and searching for what I was going to do with my life. In the winter I started down a new, somewhat unfamiliar path. But by the time spring was approaching, I was warming up to the thought of teaching in higher education. Perhaps I was starting to bloom as well.

Ever since that spring I’ve done something that I’ve not noticed anyone else on campus do. When I’m out walking from one part of campus to another, at some point on my walk I’ll take time to stop to smell one of the rose blooms. I believe it’s important to do that, as we don’t know for sure what tomorrow—or even later today—may bring. I want to remind myself that I need to take time to enjoy what is around me now, for the winter is coming, and this might be the last rose bloom I get to enjoy on campus for a while.

But is that really a concern when you can have students blooming around you all the time?