Botanical Bonds Bloom in Exotic Tenochtitlan Marriage Ceremony

Ah, Tenochtitlan—where the lakes glisten and the bustling streets are a sight to behold, filled with the echoes of merchants, children, and something surprisingly...familiar. Today, I attended a marriage ceremony between two Nahua individuals, and oh, what an educational escapade it turned out to be in this eccentric timeline where marital partnerships are... let’s say, an exhibit of very creative organization.

In this timeline, marriage ceremonies have taken an exhilarating twist, owing to the major difference: all marriages are now arranged by the Empire's thriving 'Flower Matchmaking Committees.' These esteemed matchmakers select partners not based on lineage or negotiations but rather on compatibility assessed by, of all things, one's most admirable botanical interests. Indeed, it's a matrimony of the metaphysical combined with the eco-friendly.

Imagine my amusement watching the marriage procession, where citrus trees, an exotic rarity, took center stage. This union, bound by shared admiration for the particularly zestful Xochipilli's Fruit Garden (which boasts a flourishing collection of citrus species), was a union approved by no fewer than seven different committees. Each thoroughly evaluated their penchant for horticultural aesthetics. The ceremony culminated, humorously enough, in both partners planting combined citrus seeds as a testament to their flourishing 'sapling of love.'

The two minor alternations to this grand flora-driven courtship are equally charming. First, each household now maintains a 'relationship greenhouse' where married couples nurture plants reflective of their growth as partners. I've gathered whispers of whispered arguments less common than in my own timeline; perhaps pondering whether to water a Venus flytrap does indeed calm marital storms.

The second, which may raise even a seasoned time traveler's brow, is that divorces are unheard of—or more accurately, ineffable. Instead, families encourage 'seasonal separations,' politely evaluating a green-thumbed partner's inadequacy until the next blooming season, where attempts to reconcile are as inevitable as the hydrangeas' seasonal bloom itself.

This fascinating botanical twist has yielded a society deeply protective of their plants, which somehow leads to agricultural ministerial positions being the most coveted high offices. Thus, horticulturists here wield political prowess unheard of in other timelines.

As I sat amidst the vibrant flowers and sometime-aggressive hummingbirds, I couldn't help but reflect on how an empire's oblique dedication to the perfect alignment of couplehood via flora study could, with the same stroke, cultivate steadfast bonds or—ironically—prune the very roots of partnership.

I must admit, while the idea of gauging affection by gardening skills tickles my ironic sensibilities, I dare not transplant such notions back to my timeline—where determining a union’s worth by looking into one’s watering habits would have archetypal family therapists blossoming with opportunity.