Few things are more delicate, fresh, and lovely than raindrops on petals (roses or otherwise). There’s also a depth to the light that emerges after a storm – a softness and subtlety that brings out the richness of colors more than sunshine ever could.
The pasque flower or anemone patens is the state flower of South Dakota. As its latin name tells us, the flower spreads its seeds on the wind. A cherished symbol of spring, it often emerges through the snow to signal winter’s end.
When I was a little girl, this was my favorite color and I called it POYPUL 🙂
I’ve enjoyed this rainbow-colored creative exercise so much over the past week that I’m thinking of making it a seasonal thing; I’m enchanted by the idea that, by summer, I’ll be able to discover all seven gorgeous hues in natural forms.
Each time I visit the prairie garden, something new is in bloom. On this day, the wild indigo was just beginning to open. Like fingertips to the sky, the emergent blooms remind me of a good, whole-body stretch, reaching, reaching. There is a sense of potential, of surging wild and pulsing indigo on the rise.
One of the things I like to do is look up common names of flowers. The early spring prairie blooms I’ve always called pasque flowers have many more poetic and evocative names: wind flower, prairie crocus, meadow anemone. What’s in a name? Maybe. But I think I’ll call these beauties wind flowers from now on.