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The Hypnotic Rose Garden

A contemplation

Magdalena

6/13/2026

A cluster of pure beauty, Photo taken by @MaggieHongKong

At a first glance, this looked like a welcoming hug. At a second glance, the blooms were so timely that no forecast would have predicted such a synchronicity with my arrival home.I know that now, one week after the very first glance, looking closer to some of the fading flowers, turned now in smaller flowers, downsizing and turning yellowish till filling up the ground with petals saying their good-byes.

My first day meeting the beauty of the roses in person, I could not wrap enough my mind or my heart at the magic of these blooms. I would stare and stare, unapologetically fixating my gaze upon any of the rose bushes filling up the garden. There is one sure way of contemplating and paying attention to the nature, especially after longer travel. Zooming it step by step, closer and closer, taking it all in. Taking this beauty and miracles of roses in bloom. Nothing short of breathtaking.

A breathtaking contemplation. This is a calming, soothing contemplation, that does not even require us to touch the velvety petals or try to understand if the roses carry any fragrances or not. A word of caution, should you get closer to the roses, touching the velvety petals might end in saying an unwelcome hello to a thorn or two as well, and that combination of velvet/thorns might spoil the contemplative mood altogether. Let us remain on this page, a bit remote observants, from afar to start with.

The hypnotic call of the roses holds first and foremost space for gratitude. Gratitude for the fact that this is a home signature, and they signal here all the efforts to grow them into these souls charmers. There is always an intention to keep the tradition of our grandmother ongoing, while making a new tradition for the new generations to come in bringing in new varieties, new colours, in mixing the types of roses. The white ones in particular are the ones I will always remember from the time of visiting my grandmother.Might not be the very same tree, but is surely the same type.

This is nothing short of preserving and multiplying abundance. Wherever we are, we know that we look for new plants to foster, bring home, plant, nurture. And this might be perhaps one of our secret bonds, that we never mention it, except in the continous exclamation of pure awe and joy. Look at that yellow! Look at the pink one, look at this crimson red, or the orange-red and so now. The all come in tones of colours, the buds are darker and by the time they open up, they loose of the the pigmentation and lighten up.

I stand here in gratitude and receive this welcoming gift of beauty, a signature of the family and all those who lived in these gardens before us. My heart is full.

A Dotted Yellow Rose - photo taken by @MaggieHongKong

The first stage of the contemplation has an impressive set of dramatic elements.Just for the eye of the observer, a tourist let us say, taking all in and soaking all the ,otherwise, normal elements of a village life. The mist lifting up above the hills, the roosters announcing the time for everyone to wake up and feed the chickens and the roosters too, of course, new fleets of pink clouds announcing the sunrise. The slow breathing, inviting the fresh morning fragrance of the roses to impress us, the light pace walk towards them, while noticing and trying to capture as many elements as possible. One can tell I do not see much of a garden where I live, by the long gaze I carried with me the entire first day at home. Everywhere I turn is colour. Green would be the background and then the splashes and pops of colours everywhere with all the flowers in bloom now.

The first stage of the contemplation is complete in fact , with each petal flying and falling on the ground. The impermanence and circularity of life right here. Even more so, one week after the first awe inducing long contemplation. The fact that nothing remains the same, at every hour of the day, is so palpable with getting closer and step by step zooming in towards the rose spirals. The stages of growth are easily visible and the moment you become a bit familiar with a particular bush, you can return and check the next day and take their pulse again. The change in colour, the change in the diameter of the spiral, the height of the stems, the leaves at the base of the flowers, everything evolves right under our eyes. I could remember my insistence to retain this memory, this first impression. I jotted down effervescently notes on a yellow pad that I can barely read right now.I wanted to have it all implanted on my brain, deep down in the cells.

Still a yellow rose, only at early stage of blooming....

I have entered a second stage of this contemplation quite abruptly. While deep in the trance of awe, I have tried to come closer and touched the leaves and the flowers. Needless to say how suddenly I got awaken by the sting of some serious thorn-work.

I laughed! A rose meditation gone interrupted. The forgotten thorns made now room for yet another refreshing memory, marking not only my brain cells but also my skin and fingertips. Going back to insights and noticing, I gladly admitted that these protective shields are brilliant. They well keep any impulses,to steal away the ephemeral beauty and bring it indoors, at bay.

Awake now from the hypnotical awe, my body still could not move. I got slowly in a conversation with each family of roses.The white rose bush, is quite unique in the sense that it offers a very united front. The bush has a thicker stem holding up a crown, well balanced and symmetrical almost. The buds have a light nuance of rose pigment inside and this disappears on the more mature flowers.From what I have read, the white in fact stands for “no pigmentation”, lack of colour.

The yellow rose family, grows independent almost stems, right from the base, up to perhaps two meters tall. They give a good elegant family impression, and yet, each flower is distinct and unique. The crimson red family is quite similar to the yellow one. Stunning beauties, hard to get, so easy to admire and adore, better from the distance. And yet, here I was, still getting closer, to the flower itself, away from the stem.

The third stage of this contemplation, sets the memory in stone. This is where the hypnotic effect reaches its peak. Turning my gaze more and more towards the flower, continuing our observation routine, I have found myself wondering about the intrinsic design and specific geometry of flowers and roses in particular. As it has been thoroughly researched, it is indeed a spiral, designed at a very specific angle. Because of this ”golden angle” (@137.5 degrees),the petals unfurl in overlapping spirals. If you count the intersecting spirals moving clockwise and counter-clockwise from the center of a flower head, these two counts will almost always be consecutive Fibonacci numbers.

“Petal Counts: If you count the petals of many wild rose varieties, you'll frequently find totals that correspond to Fibonacci numbers, most commonly 5.” Fibonacci sequence in plants

For the very peak of the contemplation, I found that all that was requested of me to choose a colour to dream on. Let me get lost into deep concentration, awe and joy surrounded by spirals of yellow petals.A colour that might not allows us easily to differentiate between the petals. The boundaries loosen up, and all blends in softly. My thoughts distill into joy and gratitude.

This harmony, this natural perfection. That is all therapeutic act in itself. So very happy to be closer to the soil, to the plants, to the seeds, to the roosters and too all those creating and keeping the abundant garden alive and thriving.

Thank you. From falling in awe with the beauty, to relaxing into the hypnoptic spirals of one single flower, the realisation of coming home is real, palpable, no thorns, just a large welcoming embrace.

I wish you all the same loving embrace. Find a rose tree, get closer, notice its details and take a dive into its perfect sacred geometry. The gratitude will then just flow naturally inwardly and outwardly, simultaneously.

Magdalena’s Substack