It's funny how tastes change over time. There was a time when I loved hotdogs and Teenaged Mutant Ninja Turtles and the smell of rain hitting asphalt (petrichor to the extreme). Then there are the things that used to seem absolutely disgusting.
I always hated rose water. My mother would put it in rice pudding, and I'd glare at her suspiciously. It smelled funny, it tasted funny. It was just... gross.
But then, a couple of years ago, I started noticing the smell of roses again. I smelled it in cleaning products, tea, lotions and shampoos. It didn't smell bad anymore. In fact, it smelled quite good.
My roommate started rolling cigarettes with dried rose petals instead of tobacco (an attempt to wean herself off smoking), and that smelled good too. Then I had a cup of tea made out of rose hips, and at last it dawned on me: my tastes had changed.
Now I have some roses growing right next to my front porch. They've been blooming for the last few days. Big, red, full blooms. I've never thought roses were particularly pretty, but can certainly appreciate their practicality (for things like rose water and tea).
So today, practically on a whim, I decided to try making my own rose water.
