I must admit that I nearly forgot the deadline for my blog posting today (and technically missed it, boo me), and even though the general topic for it – a quote by romantic poet John Keats from one of his letters to a friend that made me think – lingered in my mind since saturday, I could not form a decent text to go with it. Writer’s block? Easter egg overdose? Quite possibly. So here’s a simple list of moments, nowhere complete, but it’s a start:
The roses your mother planted in neat rows in the dark, rich soil from which you rescued every single earthworm that was dug up to keep it out of harm’s way.
The tulip you proudly raised in a clay flower pot in kindergarden and for which you feared it might “get lonely” after you left for home in the afternoons.
The daisies you used to make wreaths out of as a child, playing “he loves me, he loves me not” a hundred times until the answer you hoped for came up.
The poppies growing wild in fields of wheat through which you ran barefoot, faster and faster until you didn’t know anymore why and where to you were running.
The wild lilac that grew in the garden, satiating the humid summer air with a thick, sweet scent and providing shade for you to sit underneath and read books of adventures in far away countries.
The onion, of which you had never thought could produce such a delicate flower in the first place, proving that beauty lies in every living thing. Even in onions.
The iris in your family crest, a silent reminder of a time where no one smiled in photographs.
The sunflowers you tried to paint in art class, realising that a painting cannot possibly depict all the brilliant shades of sunny yellow in all their perfection – except maybe Vincent’s.
The lilies you brought to your grandmothers’ funeral.
The daffodils you bought at a small flower shop to say “I’m sorry”, after you had a huge fight with someone dear.
The blooming cherry trees announcing the beginning of spring you walked underneath with a loved one, a friend, family.
To complete the list, I’d love to know what your flower moments might be? Is it possible that we share one, like the making of daisy wreaths? Or can one flower be connected to totally different moments or meanings…?