Here in my neck of the woods, we have a whole festival centered around flowering trees. Fruit producing flowering trees that will soon bear ripe, luscious fruit. Juicy, wet, dripping fruit. Yep, it’s true. We even have a huge parade as the culmination of the two-week event. Yet, never does anyone mention fertility in association with the festival.
Huh. Seems pretty obvious to me!
Since man’s earliest time our survival has been closely tied to his food supply. That, and procreation. And the religions of ancient tribes were tied closely to the earth and it’s fecundity. Isn’t that a great word? I love the word fecund. It sounds dirty. IT SOUNDS LIKE FUCK!
Basically, that’s what it’s about. Fucking. Making more of oneself. Procreating. At the basest level, that’s what the humans and animals and plants populating Mother Earth all do. We fuck and mate and create anew. So it might come as no surprise that the town goes through a lengthy selection process to pick a virgin (supposedly!) queen and two princesses to represent the budding emergence of spring.
Personally, it makes me giggle a little. Does nobody see this? The virgins and the flowering buds? *snickers* Well, anyway, the important thing to note is that the festival is now over, and all the visiting grand parade participants have gone home, leaving us alone with our virgins and our flowers and the bees. But in my mind, I do have a dirty thought or two.
I was never in band, but think about it. You’re young, inexperienced, and far from home, crowded onto a co-ed bus full of horny teenagers who play instruments well, so their manual dexterity is not in question. *grins* Just imagine what happens on the bus when everyone else is gone but you and the one person you have a total crush on! Wowsa! Let the hormones loose- I mean, come on, it’s a barely disguised fertility ritual after all! – and let nature runs its course.
Sounds like a terrific idea for a flash fiction, don’t you think?