Recently, my Instagram feed has been chockablock with flowers. It is the month for it, of course. As soon as the winter wanes, spring is like that bit at the start of a roller coaster ride. Each passing month - each day - creaks by slowly, uphill, uphill, slowly until we hit May. And then it's all fast and downhill and arms aloft and WHEEEEEEE! as the trees blossom and buds open. The green intensifies almost perceptibly. I love this month.
The bloom that signifies May to me is the lilac. It's so fleeting, its short season bursting forth those white and purple stars with their sweet, old fashioned fragrance. I try to forage branches here and there, but this year I've all but missed the season. Seeing the lilacs begin to brown is something of a tragic day, I feel the first pang of regret at the passing of time - that end of summer feeling, crystallised.
When I was seven or eight years old, I wrote a poem. My teacher gave me a gold star, and read on if you want to know why.
The flowers in the vase, all withered and old.
Just like Grandma.
These are just the opening lines, but they're enough to trigger a fit of the giggles at any family occasion.
But, actually, the passing of time, the inevitable death and decay, has taken on new meaning for me this year. For various reasons, life recently has moved and changed, cycles have ended as well as begun, and I'm trying to accept every stage of the cycle and to see its beauty. Flowers help. (The Planthunter articulates this way better than me.)
This last picture - peonies and pink roses - were kindly sent by Blossoming Gifts. If you're after a flower delivery then have a look at their bouquets. For 33% off their beautiful flowers (all ranges excluding the flowers by post range), use code BGIFT33.