In an ancient courtyard in Isfahan, Iran, the over-seventy-year-old Mrs. Maria would always sit beside the rose bushes in the early morning. Her fingertips gently brushed those delicate Persian roses, and her eyes were full of tender memories.
More than sixty years ago, this place was still a barren land. Maria's grandfather was a flower farmer. He moved to here with his family from Kashan. Besides simple luggage, he also brought a bag of precious Persian rose seeds. Grandfather said that these seeds carried the soul of Persia. No matter where they were planted, people could feel the warmth of their hometown.
At that time, Maria was still a little girl with pigtails. She loved to work in the garden with her grandfather. Grandfather taught her to identify the growth state of roses and told her when to pick the flower buds that were most suitable for extracting essential oils. "Look," grandfather pointed to a half-opened rose, "such flower buds not only retain the vitality of the rose but also can release the most intense fragrance."
Every year when the roses are in full bloom, the yard becomes a sea of joy. Neighbors would come to help pick the roses. Children chase and play among the flowers, while adults hum ancient Persian ballads as they work. Grandfather would always carefully put the first bottle of extracted rose essential oil into an exquisite small glass bottle and give it to the hostess of the family.
Later, Maria grew up and married a painter who loved roses. The painter drew countless paintings related to roses for her, and every painting was filled with a sense of happiness. However, the good times didn't last long. The shadow of war loomed over this land. The painter resolutely went to the battlefield to defend his homeland. Before leaving, he picked a fresh Persian rose and put it in Maria's hair: "When I come back, we will plant roses all over the yard together."
Maria waited for decades, but the painter never came back. But she didn't give up. She always stuck to this courtyard and took good care of those Persian roses. Every year when the roses are in full bloom, she would pick the best flower buds to extract essential oils. Some are given to neighbors, and some are carefully collected.
Now, Maria's grandson has grown up. He studies spice technology abroad. Every time they have a video call, the grandson always asks about the Persian roses in the yard. Maria would always smile and say: "They are growing very well, just like our hope, which will never fade."
This summer, the grandson came back and brought advanced extraction equipment. He wants to work with his grandmother to spread the fragrance of Persian roses to farther places. When the first drop of newly extracted rose essential oil falls on the back of the hand, the familiar fragrance seems to travel through time and space, carrying grandfather's expectation, the painter's promise and Maria's persistence, lingering in the air for a long time.
Persian roses are not just a kind of flower, but also a sustenance of emotions and a heritage of culture. It blooms in the long river of time, emitting an everlasting fragrance.
