When everything feels cruel and horrific, I lean on natural beauty. This photo isn’t especially special, but gazing upon these coneflowers that bloomed in my garden brings me a moment of inner peace.
Maybe it can do the same for you.
I’d just sat down to upload a photo of our blooming Christmas cactus when my phone rang. It was Wildebeest, in tears. Young Dolph, his favorite rapper whom he listens to all the time, was just murdered in Memphis. My son cried, “He has kids! Why do people have to murder each other?”
All I could do was listen to his pain. There’s no making sense of the senseless.
Rest in power.
My most recent post was about the cat card I made for my neighbor’s birthday over the weekend. Turns out, she received yellow roses from her sister. And then an identical delivery of yellow roses due to florist error. Instead of keeping all that glory for herself, my generous neighbor offered me one of the bouquets. I just collected it from her and decided I wanted to document it on this ol’ blog, so set it on the floor in a patch of natural light.
Marcel immediately came to investigate.
“The optimist sees the rose and not its thorns; the pessimist stares at the thorns, oblivious to the rose.” – Kahlil Gibran
And Marcel? Well, he sees the rose and its thorns, then proceeds to snack on the surrounding foliage.
I recently bemoaned the lack of blooming iris in my gardens, wondering how others in the neighborhood managed their bumper crops of iris. I then realized I wasn’t alone. Yes, there were a couple gardens absolutely filled with iris, but the majority of us had clumps of iris in which only one or two stalks had buds/blooms. Then I remembered our early freeze last fall and the unusual amounts of moisture this spring. Maybe it wasn’t negligent gardening practices that led to my dearth of iris blooms? Whatever the reason, I’m grateful for this flower.
Solidarity with late bloomers, yo!
I’m starting to see iris in full bloom around the neighborhood. One home has two banks of deep purple irises which are absolutely stunning and another front yard is filled with white iris blooming.
My garden? A grand total of four potential iris blooms in the front and back gardens. What the hell? (I’m so grumpy I’m not even going to attempt taking another photo that at least pretends to be in focus).
And the indignities don’t end with the iris. I passed a yard today that was ablaze with blooming allium. I just checked on my plants and this is what’s happening here:
One puny, non-spherical bloom. Not only that, it’s really short. Again, what the hell?
I’m struggling to focus today so it feels very appropriate to post an out-of-focus flower from my garden last spring.
Even though it’s not a sharp image, the bright pink and the various shades of green are soothing. And I have nothing but admiration for a bloom that stands tall while others hunker down.
For years, a cherry tree flourished in a four feet by four feet space on the patio. It was lovely and we made pie with its fruit. The birds, bees, and we loved it. Then the tree became sick and we had to cut it down. Last summer, one volunteer sunflower grew in that space.
This year, it’s a literal sunflower forest. I just took my camera out there to finally document the tangle of stalks and blooms. And I smiled the entire time. Here’s a tiny sampling of the happy flowers thriving there.
My confession? Right now I hardly miss our dear old cherry tree.
I had poppy-envy yesterday as I walked the neighborhood. One yard was filled with happy orange poppies, bouncing in the breeze. Why hadn’t mine bloomed yet?
This morning, I looked out the window and saw two bursts of orange! And when I got closer with my camera, I saw the bees were also celebrating those cheery blooms.
Such a nice way to begin my weekend. Wishing everyone a blooming-good day!
One of my favorite aspects of spring is being surprised by what pokes through the soil. Years ago, my mother-in-law gifted me some allium and I’d forgotten all about it, possibly because it didn’t come up last year.
This year, though, I’m blessed with these lovely and intricate orbs. Bees love them, I love them.
Surprise!
Nobody sees a flower really; it is so small. We haven’t time, and to see takes time – like to have a friend takes time. ~ Georgie O’Keefe
In these days of social distancing, it’s vital we make friends wherever and whenever possible.
Hello, Vinca Minor. My name is Tracy. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.