It is intriguing that despite everything we know, we repeatedly attempt to capture transient things. I suppose that’s what makes those things so appealing, their unobtainable momentary perfection leaving us wanting more. And, in the case of flowers, all we can do is wait until the natural cycle meets us again at exactly the point we were hoping for in order to live the experience again.
When we try to hold on to what we know can never last, our intervention changes things and they are never the same. Even our memories cannot keep them as they truly were. Everything has its time, whether that’s a relationship, a phase in life, a job or a project and it is often difficult to consider the notion that the time will end. But it will. Perhaps only temporarily, perhaps permanently.
I don’t remember how I first heard of beads made from rose petals but the thought of making them stayed with me. The original form of the flower couldn’t be more different from the bead it becomes and that’s what made it so interesting to try. The rose petals we know and love are soft, light, delicate. As beads they are incredibly hard, rough, dark and dull in colour. Their appearance suggests they have become petrified over hundreds of thousands of years when in fact the whole process from petal to finished bead can happen in a week. The final result isn’t pretty, the beads look jaded and the vibrancy of their summer origin is lost. They will last but they are not the same.
I read that rosary beads may have been created from petals and that Victorian mourning beads were made the same way. I’m not sure of the accuracy of that information but it was enough for me to lean into the gothic imagery, accompanying them with black glass beads painted with tiny roses and black rose shapes threaded onto a necklace. Worn next to the heat of the skin, the botanical beads emit their rosy aroma, echoing a hint of what they once were.
This isn’t a how-to but if you’d like to make rose petal beads all you need to do is collect some petals (allowing any resident creatures to escape back into the wild) and give them a rinse. Add a little water and blitz them up in a blender. Heat the liquid mixture in a pan (cast iron turns it black), continually strirring until most of the moisture has evapourated and you’re left with a powerfully scented paste. Let it cool enough to handle, shape into beads, making a hole in the middle and leave to dry. As the beads dry, their size and the hole within them will shrink considerably.