Rosaceae

St. Augustine once said “Love is the beauty of the soul." That may be, but it’s also enmeshed with rosaceae plants. This large family of around 3,500 species and 150 genera has been the symbol of mankind’s favorite emotion for millennia. It’s the fruit of desire, favorite gift for Valentine’s Day, and my middle name. Clearly, this is one sexy family.

In Ancient Greece, men had a much easier (but slightly less romantic) way of proposing. If he tossed an apple at her and she caught it, they were engaged. Their religion has several examples of the power of rosaceaes. Gaia gave apples to Hera on her wedding to Zeus to signify long love and union. Dionysus tried the same trick to woo Aphrodite. Even Athena, the beautiful but apparently asexual Spartan, fell for a man when he stopped her in her tracks with golden apples.

Apples aren’t just a part of the Greek religion, either. In the Bible, the forbidden fruit that brought upon humanity’s downfall is an apple. This could be because, when they’re sliced in half, apples look remarkably like vulvas. In the Quran, Mohammed tasted apples on his lips the moment before he died.

People did some odd things with apples in the Middle Ages too. Before the age of deodorant, they kept peels in their armpits to give to their lover. German men who desired a wife ate apples doused with virgin sweat of to attract ladies.

Another plant in the rosaceae family is the cherry. The appeal of dating someone who can tie a stem in their mouth (I think) comes from the belief that their skill with the tongue will make them a good kisser. This tasty fruit is also the mascot of the swing band Cherry Poppin’ Daddies. Their cheeky name comes from the common expression for “deflowering” (another ethnobotanical term!) a female virgin. (I never, ever thought I’d write that in a school assignment.)

The rose is such a common metaphor for love it’s become a cliché. I found a terrible poem written by Sam Miller that sums it up in a sickeningly cheesy way:

“A Red Rose is a symbol of Love.
It’s silky softness resembles my heart
when I think of you.
The petals, multiple layers of beauty
symbolize the many layers
my love for you enfolds.
The leaves caress the rose
allowing it to grow fuller and stronger.
The stem supports the rose,
allowing it to hold fast, grow tall, and sturdy.
The thorns protect the rose,
preventing harm from outside unsafe forces.
If you cherish, nurture, and caress this rose,
it will last a lifetime.
Just as my love for you will last an eternity”

When looking at a rose, it’s obvious why it’s associated with love. They’re beautiful, red, and resemble humans. It was the emblem of Venus, and often used in spells.

Today, food people eat is valued more for its nutritional value than representative meeting. For those with a healthy conscience, rosaceaes still thrive. Species such as almonds provide essential vitamins, minerals, fat, and protein. Other rosaceaes like apples are low on calories and high on dietary fiber.

Even in a materialistic world, the rosaceae family has a large modern symbolic value. I’m typing this report on a computer that has an emblem of (what else?) an apple. Whether you loathe or love Stephanie Meyer, her adolescent romance novel about a hormone-addled teenage girl and thirsty vampire is the love story of my generation. And what graces its cover? Of course it’s an apple.

What else can I say? The rosaceae is one sexy family. They’re fertile, voluptuous, diverse and widespread. The Brangelina clan doesn’t come close.

Since I assaulted you with a bad poem, I’ll let Robert Frost repair the damage and say adieu:

“The rose is a rose,
And was always a rose.
But now the theory goes
That the apple's a rose,
And the pear is, and so's
The plum, I suppose.
The dear only knows
What will next prove a rose.
You, of course, are a rose--
But were always a rose.”