A few years ago I started a log of flowers and memories or thoughts, or poems that they stirred up in me. In a way, a definition of flowers according to my perspective. I titled it "A Young Woman's Musings on Flowers" and I would like to transpose some of those entries onto this computer from my laptop. Here are a few:
Primrose: Lizard Leaves
Geraniums: Dari's house in Vail. Bright red in terra cotta pots, doing well despite bone-dry conditions.
Plumeria: Hawaii. Perfect blending of colors, like sand to wet sand. A little twirl of a flower. A perfect smell that meant a certain temperature and humidity. Not too perfumey because the thick air just holds a scent like that. It doesn't rush quickly into your nostrils like when you light a match too close, or dump Crystal Light powder into a pitcher. No. It drifts and floats and surrounds-held aloft on that thick air.