Get your face fan out, because you'll need something to hide that blush after you venture into our show and tell about the world of plant and garden erotica.
It looks like a normal, step-into-the-garden-and-smell-the-flowers kind of day, but suddenly you realize that sex is all around you. It's on your hands. It's in your face. You sense the whole garden buzzing, vibrating, flowing all around and into the presence that you are, there, in your garden, in its spectacular, wet and warm, never ending orgy. Which is, of course, just another name for flowers.
You can call it anything -- life -- pistil, stamen, stigma, pollen and the conjuring of an overabundance and an overflowing of the fruit and food of life and millions of tiny messaging feet titillating the pedal, stroking the stamen in an interspecific rite of spring that you will taste again with your own body come harvest time.
But not just then, no. Not at some delicious time in the future, but right that very moment -- right then and there -- it's all happening and one -- the bee, the bird, the human -- become engulfed and enraptured by the super-superflousness of life.
Bewildering is its interrelatedness, our place in our gardens in the desert, perhaps on a warm August afternoon or evening when honeysuckle is in the air. Taken by surprise, we try hard to hold on to the moment. We refuse to let it end or see it end. It tastes so good, so sweet, brought to the memory of an ancient spring forcing itself into the future, the very force of the living world, at times, so incredibly sensual and so deeply delightful and satisfying, the very oasis we dream about here on earth.
Is it, really, all about sex?
If you've ever seen the Big Woolly Bumblebee, you might remember how their great hairy bodies become completely and unabashedly covered in pollen. Summer day in; summer day out. The Bumblebee's indulgence is legendary. Buzzing constantly throughout their day, never stopping to account for all the pleasure of being a bumblebee in a world of flowers and pollen. The Bumblebee is probably unaware of the fact that the big game it plays with the flowers all day is all about sex. Yes, my interested readers, the Bumblebee is, in fact, an insatiable sex addict. But don't fret, rather, rejoice with the scientists and insect sexologists when they tell us that the flowers tickled by this great garden beast are advanced tremendously in their ability to give us what we want, namely a successful, flower garden.
Not to worry; the flowers aren't picky. Their aim is to procreate and they make no distinctions in beauty or sexy attractiveness. No, an Earwig is as good as a Monarch Butterfly as long as the pollen makes it and the mystery happens. It's true, the flowers will take any kind of insect that might per chance, bring or take (which ever the case may be) the essential stuff. They'll take the tip of a human nose or a finger, or even a gentle breeze.
The flowers seduce us, too, as much as the bumblebee. One day you notice them reaching out, growing out to you, asking you to touch them, smell them, fondle them with your nose and kiss them with your lips. They want you to do it. Their very fragrance is already intertwined with your body, and your senses delight at the sweet high you receive from participating in their sexual adventure. And in the interchange, you become a part of the garden's future.
If we humans were plants there'd probably be other plants trying to make laws against showing pictures like this on the world wide web. The authorities would classify it as indecent, shocking, inappropriate for public display. They'd call it something like Plantea Spermatophyta porn, and many of us would be looking all over the internet collecting more and more pictures of flowers in bloom.
It's just a semblance. Thus, the name: Phallus. Otherwise, this mushroom is no more nor less sexual than any other plant in your yard. They're all having sex, and this common Stinkhorn is, reportedly, editable...
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