Flowers speak a language of sentiment and memory, fragrant with associations of all kinds. Think of the vast variety of colors and names of flowers and imagine all the stories woven by combinations of these. There are historical records of assigning meaning to certain flowers – from Shakespeare to the Old Farmer’s Almanac and beyond. I have my own stories with these recent photos that I took.
Bleeding hearts will always remind me of my oldest daughter. They bloomed beside her first home in Wisconsin, and she has tattoos featuring their symbolic shape. When I see this row of bleeding hearts, I think of a parade of sensitive souls backing each other up. They could be my daughter and her friends.
I didn’t realize I captured a raindrop on the edge of this rose as I snapped this picture this morning. Now that I see it in close-up, I think of a brave droplet scaling an orange Everest. Orange roses signify “enthusiasm”, according to one list. Maybe this flower’s message to me is “don’t let it rain on your parade”!
Looking deeply into the center of a bearded iris is like diving in a coral reef. The vibrant color and fanciful shapes create a magic world.
The following four shots exist to preserve the Mother’s Day peonies I received from my oldest daughter. I took them over a few days’ time. In my mind, Danny Kaye is singing about The Peony Bush there in his garden. I am struck at how their petal pattern resembles an artichoke’s leaves and surprised at how they seem to explode over time, compact spheres opening and fading like graceful grenades.
A flower is so fascinating up close, a world in itself. But what if there was a whole landscape of flowers as far as your eye could see? I have seen wildflowers (lupines, shooting stars, spring beauty, trout lilies) covering hillsides, and they have taken my breath away, like the sudden and ephemeral serendipity of a rainbow. I feel a bit differently when I see flowers as crops. It’s more manufacturing than magic, to my mind.
scillagrace 