Flowers are not despondent when caught in the cold rain nor are they inordinately ecstatic on a sun-filled afternoon. Their joy and sorrow are the same thing. They seem to realize patiently that sunshine and rain, growth and pain, are all there as part of the total scheme and no matter what the circumstances of the current moment those circumstances too will pass. If the flowers are mowed down they will sprout again without bitterness or vengeance. They do not fear or hate the ever-coming frosts of winter and they know that autumn is always there behind them but that knowledge does not make their blossoms any less bright or plentiful. This is the love of the flowers. They are natural harmony giving only what is theirs to give accepting all that comes to them and demanding nothing.