With its simple whiteness and vibrant yellow, the gracious petals and stamens of the bigaradier flower invite us to a sweet calm innocence and pungent heart beat of a young happy woman.
It is young mother nature expressing herself after the transformational winter, where all hibernates, including her. She removes herself to then rebirth again as a child while the flowers are still closed and then blossoms as a young pure wishing heart.
Her heart is virtuous and eager for life. Its rhythm is the spicy note after the calm sweetness of the fragrance. How can such a subtle and delicate person have so much life force? It runs through her veins, it explodes in her heart and once we are fully embraced by her serene fine sweetness we are consumed by her tangy beauty.
She smiles and laughs dancing round the blossoming citrus aurantium amara trees, with her red waving hair following the unstable winds of spring. The bees follow her hair removing the pollen from the stamens in a constant state of nirvana. The power of the pungent bitterness is heard and felt throughout the fields, the soil beats at her hearts’ rhythm and, nature is signalled to wake-up, to believe, to give it all so they can thrive.
… And us humans reinvent ourselves again every spring after the winter, every time we become that blossoming flower after our transformational hibernation that follows an internal change. A metamorphosis is signalled as ended every time nature shows us her rhythm. This happens when we synchronize our heart with the young woman’s heart. And the certainty of the beautiful pollinizing bees assuring the spreading of the sweet and bitter neroli fragrance give us the power to believe. Their nurture of the orange blossoms with such diligence gives us the certainty of a new cycle that we can start as if we were born again.
That’s mother nature’s role, to give us certainty during the instability of spring time, She uses the bees for that purpose; to give us hope with the calm sweet notes of the fragrance; to give us life blood with the spicy note at the end… Here we go again, the same soul. But different…
Maria Vidaurre