don’t look at the little strip of scotch tape that is holding this stem upside down against my sheet of white tagboard so that i can find an interesting new angle from which to consider these dried asters. just pretend it’s magic.
there had to be a point in our species’ past when the first ape descendent picked an interesting mix of flora, held them in a fist, and offered them to a fellow ape descendent as a declaration–of admiration, or love, or thanks. somewhere in our dna there exists an appreciation for the bouquet. its shape fits into some neural receptor and we recognize it as beautiful, no matter what it’s made of. as a descendent of that descendent, i gathered these into a fist, and found them beautiful.
winter prairie weed and wildflower stems
winter is winter is winter
these winter stems could have come as easily from the hedgerows surrounding our village in the languedoc, as from the northern prairie trails they where I found them. although my current view out over a frozen lake does not look like a blue mediterranean sky over a stone courtyard wall, the weeds themselves look surprisingly similar in their winter dormancy. tomorrow my husband and i emerge briefly from our own winter dormancy to work on one of our recurrent five year plans. they are nerdy and very satisfying and, at this age, feel increasingly necessary to stay focused on what’s important. i hope a few green shoots emerge from our talk, so that i can look forward to a fruitful spring of new and enhanced directions for our joint life together.
winter prairie stems
there are three elements in this image: the blossom, the stem, and the leaf. i can’t help but read emotions into them. the flower’s slightly coquettish looking away from the camera. the the curve of the stem, as if the flower is standing with one cocked hip. the dismissive wrist turn of the leaf, as if waving away a triviality, or maybe even flipping back the flower’s bouncy head of hair. it’s all confident girlishness for me. i wonder what you see.
ghost of spring past
trilliums are one of my very favorite spring wildflowers. there is so much happy energy in their exuberant white petals, and a drive along a country highway when trilliums are in bloom is like a spring version of a field of daisies. its as if the sun has come out to celebrate all the beauty in the world. i kept this trillium from our back yard last year and just came upon it. i have to say, it is nearly as beautiful folded and slightly crumpled, with rich deep colors, as it was last spring, full of exuberance and primary colors. i will sure be ready for the next trillium bloom this may, however. don’t get me wrong.
dried trillium flower