Category Archives: Flowers

The room was in a corner of the building, partly overlooking the water of the harbor. Two of its walls were mostly windows, allowing ample natural light to flood the space. It was an empty function room, recently occupied by a wedding reception or other festive occasion, as marked by the multitude of fancy bouquets that dotted each table. These weren’t cheap fillers overrun by Alstroemeria and carnations and mums – these were packed with orchids, gloriosa lilies, anemones and ranunculus.

The space was quiet, and I listened for echoes of parties, the remains of laughter, the spirit of happiness, lilting from the fading flower petals. These bouquets were nearing the end of their table-life, but still had beauty and color, and hadn’t begun to lose their petals just yet. A bit over-ripe perhaps, they tottered and waited just a few moments more, perhaps to pose for these very photos, in an effort to achieve immortality.

Such histrionic anthropomorphism is characteristic for this blog, and I make no apologies for it now. This is the sort of quiet beauty that demands over-the-top appreciation. I will always make a ruckus for unheralded fabulousness.

For a while it felt like spring might never arrive, but it always does, and it always will. Here is the proof for this year. It’s still taking its time, but spring is one thing I’d rather not rush.

The garden party is in the house, and these Narcissus are having a gnarly good time. Bright and cheerful in color and fragrance, they spill their joy from the mouth of a glass vase. Sitting beside me as I write these posts, they spread their petals while peppering the surroundings with the prettiest perfume. As part of his Jardin Noir series of Private Blends, Tom Ford comes close with ‘Jonquille de Nuit’ and its immediate dry-down, but fell short of capturing the lightness of this ethereal, intoxicating scent (instead falling victim to an over-riding jasmine feel.)

A jonquil will never be so easily captured. Theirs is a magic that is ephemeral.

It dissipates with the lightest wind, disappearing with the brush of a passing figure.

Yet for all their delicate and fleeting olfactory tumescence, they must be incredibly hardy and insistent, especially if they are to survive the wilds of the spring season.

These lucky blooms have the luxury and protection of being brought into their glory within the pampered environs of a heated house.

They bring an otherwise-delayed sense of spring indoors, and it’s never been more welcome.

Having previously pooh-poohed the notion of flowers on Valentine’s Day (cologne will always be the wiser choice) I had forgotten how much a bouquet of bright flowers can lift the darkest spirit in these bleakest of winter days. When we recently had a few people over for dinner, I went out and bought these flowers, and they’ve made a noticeable difference in the house. For such a simple thing, the rewards have proven to be substantial. Maybe I’m just so starved for greenery and flowers anything would have made this magnificent difference. Whatever the cause, I’m enjoying the little burst of spring and boost of spirits.

It’s amazing the power that a flower can hold over the countenance and the mental state of those of us starting to feel the winter blues. I spent a while just staring at each of the blooms here, studying the veins of each petal, the curves of the stems, the texture of the leaves.

It was the color that inspired me the most. Rich, vibrant, bold and beautiful – the perfect remedy for a gray and white landscape. Sensory overload in the best possible way. A moment of visual giddiness.

This is why we need a garden room. So many ills could be instantly cured by a few hours in such surroundings. Beauty is a balm for the most restless of hearts.

Until that day, a bouquet will have to suffice… and, somehow, it does.

 Flowers really do intoxicate me. ~Vita Sackville-West

It’s not as extravagant nor as sexual as some might think.

It’s not a fragrance (in the usual sense).

It’s not a pair of shoes.

Or a coat.

Or a bag.

It is a garden room.

Large and airy enough to house a few lemon trees.

Bright and humid enough to coax a Vanda into bloom.

Warm and comfortable enough to sit for a spell and read a book.

Until the day arrives when I secure that garden room, I’ll have to make-do with orchids like this Oncidium, and trips to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. Spring feels far away, and summer a lifetime ago.

“In gardens, beauty is a by-product. The main business is sex and death.” ~ Sam Llewelyn

Spinning on a stamen and prancing upon pollen, these pendulous fuchsia flowers dance like ballerinas suspended mid-pirouette. With a background of bright chartreuse (courtesy of a sweet potato vine that retains this fresh color throughout the growing season), the colors especially pop. It’s a classic combination, not for the faint of heart or the seeker of quieter shades.

The concrete jungle offers this coda of flowers for a final look back at our time in New York. Beauty can be found in many shapes and forms, but the simple grace of a plant in flower, particularly in the midst of all the asphalt and cityscaping, is a delight. Here are a few blooms we encountered along the way.

When you take a flower in your hand and really look at it, it’s your world for the moment. I want to give that world to someone else. Most people in the city rush around so, they have no time to look at a flower. I want them to see it whether they want to or not. ~ Georgia O’Keeffe

I will be the gladdest thing under the sun! I will touch a hundred flowers and not pick one. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay