Capturing this photo felt akin to bottling sunshine. Now if I can just figure out how to do it with time…
Despite its les than poetic name, spiderwort is a lovely native plant. In the morning, the flowers open into a three-petaled violet bloom. Later in the day, the flower closes up into at little pod, like the ones seen here at dusk. I like the way the purple in the stem hints at what’s inside.
I talk a lot about actively seeing the world, paying attention, finding beauty in things that are commonly overlooked. But today’s image is a perfect example of how I sometimes fail to follow my own advice. I’ve said before that I like the hosta’s leaves far more than her flowers. But of course the flowers are magnificent. I just needed to stop and look at them. I’m so glad I did.
This gorgeous blossom is undergoing a rebranding effort in the name of monarch survival. Commonly referred to as Swamp Milkweed, the plant is one of the essential natives for monarch caterpillars. In an effort to encourage more gardeners to embrace this beneficial plant, the new moniker lends a more delicate, desirable image. This is no swamp plant: it’s Rose Milkweed (thank you very much).
This day I only managed product shots so I selected one to share that I think manages to still inspire. Back in May, I sent out flowers and inspiring quotations via email to everyone on my mailing list. They are the same image/word pairings on my line of recycled brown kraft note cards. Each card features a colorful fine art floral print on the front matched with beautiful words on the back.
Post title is part of a Claude Monet quote: “I must have flowers always, and always.”
The older I get, the more particular flowers trigger memories. There are flowers I loved as a little girl. Their scents and shapes remind me how I reveled in their existence as much as my own. There are flowers that grew at my grandparents’ houses. And my great-grandparents’ houses. And there are flowers that I will remember when I’m old. Those my mother grew, or I grew myself or shared with my children. The flowers will always return and the memories are ours to keep: it’s just that moment of recognition – putting it all together – that we so often miss.