I'm not sure what my favorite flower is. Maybe it's something yellow since that is my favorite color, or maybe it's just an unkempt assemblage of wildflowers since they always lift my spirits when I see them, but even pressed I'm not sure what is my favorite. I like too many of them to choose and almost any flower has the ability to bring a smile to my face. I don't think I was always so drawn to flowers, but now they seem like markers through the year. A more effective measure of the passage of time and season than watches no one wears these days. Early spring is marked by primroses (which I always *feel* should be pink but are commonly a delicate shade of yellow) and elegant snowdrops. As they pass by bluebells, wood anemone and wild garlic blooms in the woods even before leaves form to turn the forest green. Then there are the more flashy displays of spring--bright swathes of cherry blossom filling the air with petals and drawing the eyes of even the most casual observer. Flashy or humble though, I find myself drawn to them all. I love the how wildflowers crop up in the least likely places; cheerful and hardy despite delicate stems. I like rapeseed fields like these (despite the name); vibrant blankets of yellow that seem to stretch on and on. Each flower is rather small, but collectively they are astounding. It's no wonder I've filled my wardrobe with flowers as well, dresses with tiny ditsy prints and jewelry mimicking nature's curves and colors. I must have flowers...always. Monet said that (or a variation of that) and I echo the sentiment heartily.
CONVERSATION