Taking Time (A LONG Time) to Smell the Flowers

I fell for this little daisy-hugger the other day and had to share him/her with you:

“Where’er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own whole Treasure.”
—From “The Snail” by William Cowper

[Photo by Audrey Green.]

Rooting for Flower Power

After being trapped indoors for weeks now with bronchitis, I slipped outside yesterday for a short stroll in the sunshine. I was delighted to see what Nature had been up to while I moped around.

Color is sprouting! Snowdrops, crocuses, and dwarf irises are peeking out from the drab winter landscape.

Then the weather turned ugly last night—high winds, a cold front, precipitation that waffled between rain and snow. I worried about the bursts of miniature flowers I’d communed with earlier and thought this line from Barbara Kingsolver’s Flight Behavior was wise advice for them:

“Okay, look, you have to find your fierce.”

May color prevail.

May Day, May Day

I realize it’s a day of protest for the 99%—a date long observed as the moment of reckoning between greed and want.

But years ago, May 1 meant creating May Baskets for folks near and dear to me. Spring flowers still come to mind whenever May Day is mentioned.

However you choose to celebrate—in protest or in petals—may your May Day be a good one.

[Tulips illustration courtesy of The Graphics Fairy.]

Awestruck

“The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and all science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead: his eyes are closed.”
—Albert Einstein

Each time I leave my four walls, my senses scan for spectacle and transformation: a pink bud bursting into a white blossom, a vertical tulip-tree branch forming a chartreuse-and-orange-patterned wall at a busy intersection, the heady scents of lilac and pear giving way to roses, the newest placement of the stars. Every day brings new color and texture and fragrance to my small world that wasn’t there the day before.

And each day I try to absorb everything Nature offers—to be alive and open to it, to capture its Spring wonders in my heart and memory.

Take a moment today to see—really see—one thing Nature is trying to reveal to you.

Seeing Purple

Wandering home from the grocery store yesterday, I traveled down one of my favorite streets. It’s only a block long and curves up and down and left and right. The post at one end is always dressed in a nod to whatever holiday approaches, as are the homes and yards of many residents. This week, colorful eggs hang from trees and bushes; pastel wreaths hang on doors.

I stopped for a moment to sit in the grass and pet a black-and-white cat named Fearless. His fearful, half-tailed Calico sister did and did not want the same treatment. She circled round us, keeping her distance and staring at me all the while, then scented me by licking her brother’s face and mouth. Guess I wasn’t as intriguing as she first thought for she looked at me once more and then took off across the street. After a bit more Fearless petting, I took off, too.

Further down Louisiana, I found another treat: Irises of deep purple and lavender were beginning to unfold. The day before, they were just tight buds.

I love watching how time and weather alter the landscape moment by moment—alter the fragrance in the air, alter the palette of plant life.

“I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”
—from The Color Purple, by Alice Walker

What’s unfolding in your neighborhood?

Mother-Struck

Daffodils are in full bloom now and crocuses have flaunted their palette of colors—purple, lavender, white, yellow, gold. This weekend I spotted my first hyacinth and yesterday, while on a walk through the neighborhood, I turned a corner to see a tree bursting in cotton-candy blossoms.

This morning? Everything’s blanketed in snow.

It’s allowed, I suppose. It’s still Winter, after all. As poet and novelist Alice Walker wrote:

“Mother. Once again doing it just any old way you like. Mother is my favorite name for Nature, God, All-ness.”
—from “Crimes Against Dog” in Dog Is My Co-Pilot

In Case the Groundhog Is Right…

I’ve been under the spell of Springlike temperatures and bursts of color here in the Bluegrass.

Crocuses have popped up everywhere and honeysuckle bushes have bloomed. Taller bulb flowers—jonquils, daffodils, tulips—have been ever-so-slowly pushing their way toward the sun since December. The bees seem as thrilled as I am about the early blooms.

I realize none of this guarantees Old Man Winter’s departure, so I’ve been making the most of the interim. Yesterday, my husband and I ate an early picnic dinner in a nearby park filled with towering old trees and alive with tennis players, skateboarders, dog walkers, and toddlers on swings. And squirrels, one who discovered a special fondness for our malt vinegar chips.

The whole scene was scrumptious.

It’s Opening Day for Summer

If “flower watching” were a sport, I could finally call myself an athlete.

“In June, as many as a dozen species may burst their buds on a single day. No man can heed all of these anniversaries; no man can ignore all of them.”

—Aldo Leopold

Taking a Walk on the Wild Side

Yesterday I walked the birthplace of the Horse Capital of the World, McConnell Springs.

It’s a city park now, rescued land bounded by a railroad on one side and a (stinky, noisy) industrial “park” on the other. A small nature center stands at the head of the park paths, then beyond that, wilderness. Nothing but woodlands and a newly created wetlands area.

Remnants of farms and mills that stood on the grounds in previous centuries remain. Efforts to eradicate invasive plants are apparent. But all else is natural—a cathedral of treetops above wildflowers, a stream that intermittently flows above and beneath ground fed by “boiling springs” and a “blue hole,” scores of butterflies and dragonflies, and the avian chorus I could clearly hear but never quite see.

I foolishly forgot my camera and had to take these pics with my iPhone. The tiny butterflies and dragonflies were too quick for me to photograph, but the bird and I started a conversation through the glass of the nature center (“You talkin’ to me?”) and the turtle swam to me as soon as I knelt beside the pond. Whatever grasses I brushed against when trying to photograph the yellow wildflower I’ve since learned I’m allergic to. Yeah, I love nature but I need to be in a bubble when I’m in it.



“In wilderness I sense the miracle of life, and behind it our scientific accomplishments fade to trivia.”
—Charles A. Lindbergh

Flower Power

The sun’s been a bit shy about coming out these past few weeks, but that hasn’t prevented the fleurs from flaunting themselves. They’re crazy with color right now in the Bluegrass, which makes the gray skies tolerable. Reminds me of a Rilke passage:

“[E]verything is blooming most recklessly; if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke

[Nature pics without credits are from either yours truly or her camera-toting husband. This particular one was shot by the latter.]

From Fleurs to Flourishing

“If of thy mortal goods thou art bereft,
And from thy slender store two loaves alone to thee are left,
Sell one, and with the dole
Buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.”

(This is purportedly from Saadi’s Golestan, which means The Rose Garden. I’ve not been able to verify it, but it speaks to me today.)

No Silver Spoon for Me

“He who is born with a silver spoon in his mouth is generally considered a fortunate person, but his good fortune is small compared to that of the happy mortal who enters this world with a passion for flowers in his soul.”
—Celia Thaxter

Antidote to World Gloom

“Where flowers bloom, so does hope.”
—Lady Bird Johnson

Everything’s Coming Up…Yellow

I missed the exact day when these trumpet-heads burst from their cocoons. I’ve been trying to be as mindful about Spring unfolding as I was last year.

But it’s harder without the pooch in tow.

However, on a walk to the post office yesterday, I noticed that the day’s welcome sunlight had finally persuaded the forsythia to stop peeping out one bud at a time and, instead, to step into the world en masse.

How can a darkened soul resist the joy of Spring yellows?

Sanctity

“Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.”
—Theodore Roethke

May Day, May Day!

Though much of the world pays tribute to labor issues on May 1, I prefer to go the pagan route and pay tribute to flowers with this whimsical topiary, Puppy, by Jeff Koons.

Flora, fauna, and art—a holy trinity, in my mind.

But wait!

Today also happens to be a festive occasion for the racing- and betting-inclined. It’s the 136th Kentucky Derby.

Though I’m opposed to racing and refuse to gamble, I do love horses and hats.

Today offers a little something for everyone. Take what you will.

[AP photo of General Quarters by Ed Reinke, 2009 Derby.]

Every Day A New Voice

“[E]verything is blooming most recklessly: if it were voices instead of colors, there would be an unbelievable shrieking into the heart of the night.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke

Subtle Signs of Spring

“Springtime is the land awakening. The March winds are the morning yawn.”
—Lewis Grizzard


[Photo by Nino Barbieri.]