SAUCIER — Flower power

It was one of those early August days — hot and dry, plants drooping under their thermal load, and the ground thirsting for the rain that wouldn’t come.

I was out front, watering some of my wife’s flowers.

As I showered the large bouquet of colors, I sensed my focus change from the task at hand to the flowers at my feet.

Here there were the regal red and purple-tufted celosia, the bright orange and yellow lantana, bold and hearty snap dragons, and the prolific gloriosa daisies — a name far more fitting than the common black-eyed Susan.

These summer survivors may not be as delicate or as aromatic as their spring cousins, but theirs is a heavier load, weathering the harshness of the season and lifting the spirits of those wearied by it.

Flowers go back deep in time. They emerged more than 100 million years ago, albeit without the luscious petals and scent that mark them today.

It was all about survival then, procreation and co-creation. By the time our ancestral hominids appeared, flowers bloomed in vibrant color with a distinct and always appealing-to-some fragrance.

They needed to be attractive, to invite the birds, bees and butterflies to pollinate and spread their seed.

It was a patient, big-picture plan that has produced over a quarter of a million species of flowering plants today.

Flowers are a part of human history. You can find them in Sumerian cuneiform tablets, ancient Egyptian tombs, and in Greek mythology.

But long before that, our ancestors knew which flowers were edible and which had healing powers.

When they found themselves in unfamiliar environs, it was the flower that welcomed them, indicating the area was habitable.

But at some point in the story we share with flowers, there had to be a moment when someone, unconcerned with the flower’s utility, simply stared at it, caught in its power.

This person, (my money would be on a woman), was attracted by its color and its sweet aroma, but it didn’t stop there.

Its hues, swirls, texture and smell introduced her to beauty, which whispered of something more than what was physically in front of her.

At some point, someone, maybe this woman, stood in awe of the flower and in that awe, sensed something so much greater, and yet so much more intimate, than she had ever known before.

At that point, our humble flower became a sign of hope and a source of grace.