Better pass boldly into that other world, in the full glory of some passion, than fade and wither dismally with age.
My favorite cattleya orchid usually blooms twice a year for us, as it has for over twenty years. While in bloom, it resides in its place of honor in our living room for us to enjoy. I would like to think it enjoys its visits, though I rather doubt it, as we torture it with the lack of light, water and humidity. As the blooms wither, I return the orchid to its own hanger under the arbor to enjoy some fresh air, sunshine and a twice daily misting. The blooms are then unceremoniously plucked off, but this time, for the first time, I realized that, though withered, the blooms were still beautiful. Maybe more beautiful?