A Day in the Life of a Damascus Rose Grower

4:30 AM
The first light of dawn is barely a whisper on the horizon, but I’m already awake, the air cool and fragrant with the faint scent of roses carried on the breeze. Here, in our small village nestled in the hills, the Damascus rose is more than a crop—it’s a tradition, a livelihood, and a legacy passed down through generations.

I sip a cup of tea sweetened with honey and prepare for the day. During the short harvest season, every moment counts. The roses must be picked early in the morning, when their essential oils are most concentrated.

5:00 AM
With a woven basket in hand, I head to the fields. The sun is rising now, painting the sky with strokes of gold and pink. The Damascus roses are in full bloom, their soft pink petals glistening with dew. It’s a breathtaking sight, but there’s no time to linger.

I join my family and neighbors, who are already at work. We move quickly and carefully, plucking the roses one by one, making sure not to bruise the delicate petals. The scent is intoxicating—a heady blend of sweetness and spice that lingers in the air and clings to my hands and clothes.

7:30 AM
By mid-morning, the first baskets are full, each brimming with roses that will soon be transformed into rose oil or water. The harvest is physically demanding, but it’s also deeply satisfying. There’s something meditative about the rhythm of the work, the quiet rustle of leaves, and the soft murmur of voices in the field.

We carry the baskets to a shaded area where the petals are carefully unloaded. I sort through them, ensuring only the freshest and most fragrant blooms are kept. These roses are destined for the distillery, where their essence will be captured in every drop of oil.

9:00 AM
The next stop is the distillation shed. It’s a humble space with traditional copper stills that have been used for decades. The process of making rose oil is as much an art as it is a science. We load the stills with fresh petals, adding water before sealing them tightly. The fire is lit beneath the stills, and the steam begins its work, coaxing the precious oils from the petals.

The first drops of rosewater emerge, clear and fragrant, followed by the precious oil, which floats on the surface. It takes thousands of roses to produce just a few milliliters of oil. Watching this transformation never ceases to amaze me.

12:00 PM
It’s time for a well-earned break. We gather under the shade of an old walnut tree, enjoying a simple lunch of flatbread, olives, cheese, and yogurt. There’s laughter and stories, a sense of community that comes from working together. My hands are still stained faintly pink, and the scent of roses clings to me like a second skin.

I drink a cup of cool rosewater, its floral taste refreshing in the midday heat. It’s a reminder of why we do this work—not just for the income it provides but for the beauty and tradition it represents.

1:30 PM
The afternoon is spent tending to the rose bushes. We prune back spent blooms and check the soil, ensuring the plants remain healthy and vigorous. Growing Damascus roses requires patience and care; they thrive best in well-drained soil and the sunny, dry conditions of our region.

As I work, I think about the end products—rose oil for perfumes, cosmetics, and traditional medicines; rosewater for culinary uses and rituals. Knowing that these blooms will be cherished worldwide fills me with pride.

4:00 PM
The distillation process is nearly complete, and I return to the shed to collect the oil. Each drop is carefully siphoned into small glass vials, stored safely to preserve its quality. The rosewater is poured into larger containers, ready for transport to local markets.

We clean the stills thoroughly, preparing them for tomorrow’s harvest. Every part of the process is handled with care—it’s our reputation on the line, and the quality of our roses is what sets us apart.

6:00 PM
The day winds down, and I take a walk through the fields. The setting sun casts a warm glow over the rose bushes, their blooms gently swaying in the breeze. The work is hard, but the rewards are tangible: the scent of roses in the air, the knowledge that we’re preserving a centuries-old tradition, and the pride of seeing our roses transform into something cherished by people all over the world.

I gather a small bouquet to take home, a token of the day’s work.

7:30 PM
Dinner is a family affair—lentil stew, freshly baked bread, and salads made from our garden. As we eat, we talk about the day, the harvest, and plans for the rest of the season. There’s always work to be done, but we find joy in the rhythm of it all.

9:00 PM
Before bed, I step outside to take in the night air. The stars are bright, and the faint scent of roses still lingers, even after the sun has set. The harvest will continue tomorrow, and I’ll be up with the dawn again.

As I drift off to sleep, I feel a deep sense of contentment. Growing Damascus roses is more than a livelihood—it’s a connection to the earth, to history, and to a beauty that transcends time.