Certain flowers evoke sex in their obvious anatomy or the way they remind of various caverns and protuberances. A plump swollen section here, a vacuous hole of temptation to be filled there, and sweet perfumes and dusty pollens all conspiring to bring about fucking in some fashion.
Sex in the plant kingdom is sometimes flagrant, sometimes furtive, and always fascinating. It happens through scent, through timing, through touch and feel – an instinct and an impulse and an intoxicating allure – and all signs point to propagating survival.
Spreading seed.
Leaving legacy.
Making a mark and a mess.
The cycle of a flower – the purpose of being pretty – the sex of a moment.
