By Blake Davis

Image of the rose petals in my monastic guest room

This summer I spent several weeks traveling through the United Kingdom overseeing a documentary for work. When the trip was confirmed, my wife being a saint- insisted that as a birthday gift I should extend my stay in the country and book myself into a Benedicting monastery, a long time bucket list desire.

I chose Buckfast Abbey partly because of its renowned gardens and Buckfast bees. But I’ll save those garden observations for next month's article.

For now, I wanted to share a tip of roses and hospitality from a monk named Brother Daniel.

When I arrived, sweaty and travel-worn after numerous train delays and malfunctions, Brother (Br) Daniel met me at the Abbey gate.

A gentle, soft-spoken man with a twinkle in his eye when talking with people, who limps with a stern focus when approaching a task that needs doing.

He was utterly unsurprised by the train delays, just glad I made it in time for him to welcome me before dinner.

From the pictures online, I was prepared for the kind of tight, minimalistic quarters that contribute to one's piety and spiritual growth.

But as Br Daniel led me to my door, he told me that because my wife said this visit was a birthday present, they gave me what is affectionately known as the ‘Cardinal’s room’. He opened the door to what could best be described as a plush executive suite with an incredible view directly over the monk's private garden.

After my surprise at my sumptuous quarters at a monastery, I noticed the strong scent of fresh roses. I was confused as I saw no roses in the room but the smell was stronger than any rose bush I’ve smelled at a distance.

Br Daniel’s led me to a writing desk at the opposite end of the room, where he lifted a small bowl of rose petals and offered it to me with an eager pride I can only relate to when my children present me their favorite artwork.

For the rest of my stay that scent remained the first thing I noticed each time I entered my room, and I’m confident for the rest of my life the smell will remind me of great hospitality.

Each evening after Compline -the final service of the day- Br Daniel would visit the small community room in the monastic guest area for anyone who wanted to spend time together.

On my final evening at the Abbey, I found myself alone with Br Daniel. I thanked him for his hospitality and asked about the rose petals.

He said he’s done this with his roses for years, and his trick is to gather the petals when they are just about to fall -usually gathering them during his normal deadheading- and lay them all out on a flat surface to dry in the sun.

He then pours the dried petals, which should now have shrunk to half their original size, and sprinkles some rose water on them, and “for a final trick” he lightly squeezes them to release the scent. He said the scent has only worked for him with his red and pink roses, not white or yellow.

I listened to him reminiscing that a long time ago (he’s been at the monastery for over 50 years) he got his rose water from a special trading network among monasteries that shared goods made by monks around the world. He spent some time fondly remembering an excellent sparkling wine they used to receive through barter from a monastery in France.

“But now,” he said, “I just get my rose water from Amazon.”

He charged me to take the knowledge home and try it- “Which would be really neat,” he finished, smiling as his eyes twinkled, “because you can tell them you learned that from a Benedictine monk.”

Image of Br Daniel from the Buckfast Abbey website