Summer has a way of drying up the world around us. The flowers that bloomed so effortlessly in spring now struggle under the heat, their colors fading, their petals curling at the edges. A few days ago, I stopped to smell the roses near my apartment, knowing it might be the last time before the season changes. The scent was faint but still present, a reminder of what freshness feels like before the relentless sun takes over completely. The landscaping in my society is well-maintained, with flower beds that cycle through different blooms as the months pass.
The shift in flora during summer is noticeable. Plants that thrived in cooler weather now wilt, while hardier species take their place. The soil cracks under the heat, and even the most resilient flowers require more water to survive. I’ve seen this pattern repeat every year, yet it still feels abrupt when the first few blooms disappear. The change isn’t just visual—it’s in the air. The scent of flowers becomes scarce, replaced by the dry, dusty smell of warm pavement and parched earth. For now, though, there’s still a hint of fragrance if you pause long enough to notice.
I don’t often stop to appreciate these small details, but when I do, it’s usually because I sense an ending. The flowers won’t last much longer, and neither will this particular phase of the year. Soon, the monsoons will arrive, bringing a different kind of life to the plants. But for now, summer dominates, reshaping the environment in its own way. The flowers that remain are survivors, adapting to the heat, their presence a brief respite before the next seasonal shift.
If you have flowers where you live, take a moment to enjoy them. The season moves quickly, and what’s here today might be gone tomorrow. The roses in my society won’t stay this way forever—soon, they’ll be replaced by something else, something that can withstand the coming months. Until then, I’ll keep noticing them, knowing that each time might be the last for a while.