This is Mutabilis, a rose which appears as delicate as butterfly wings but is a tough old biddy.
Mutabilis holds multiple colours and shapes in her flowers, giving rise to her name. She is mutable, changeable. In the background shot here, it’s possible to see the dark cerise of another blossom. If you didn’t know her, it might be hard to believe its the same plant.
When I see Mutabilis I am always reminded that change doesn’t have to be bad. However it can be hard to hang onto this insight when you are under great stress. Here’s what is going down this week. Today is my father’s birthday. He would have been eighty one. Tomorrow is the fifth anniversary of my mother’s death from multiple cancers. Five years on and no where near any kind of peace with her. Tomorrow my nephew goes for an MRI to hopefully rule out a brain tumour. On Friday I go to the specialist to find out if the black spot in my eye is cancer, or something more benign.
Not all change is beautiful, like Mutabilis. It’s also driving my blood sugars up, this perpetual state of anxiety and grimness. And I’ve discovered that my control hasn’t been as good as i thought. turns out that organ damage can start as low as 8mmol. Luckily, my feet and eyes have escaped. There are no signs of neuropathy. I didn’t appreciate the podiatrist’s attitude of inevitability. Nothing yet, but here’s where it will happen, he said, giving my right big toe a poke.
I wouldn’t mind the thorns of life so much, if there were a few more blossoms to even things out a bit.