Roses, eucalyptus, and pepper berries for this breezy December day.
I love to open the window just enough to hear the wind sing through it. It’s the most melancholy, lonely, beautiful sound.
It makes my heart ache the same way it does when I want so much to remember something I simply cannot, no matter how hard I try.
My friend’s little girl calls these “wish flowers”. Isn’t that lovely?
I just realized today that cosmos have tiny little stars in the center. Isn’t that the perfect thing for a flower named after the heavens? (The stars are kinda hard to see here because they’re so tiny, but you can see if you look close at the center of the bloom on the right). What flower names do you love?
Don’t parrot tulips look like fancy, frilly, old-timey dresses? Or Easter bonnets bedecked with lace and ribbons?
How do you start in on a drawing?
I scatter the blooms across the page first, add the stems next, and then fill in with leaves and buds.
But good gracious, how it all ends up is almost always a surprise, haha!
Don’t you love the way the stiff, rough branches of flowering trees contrast with their soft, delicate blooms?
And how when you create an arrangement from them, the branches are this gorgeous, twisty sculpture of perfect chaos?
Or how about when you just experience them outside and let their fragrance fall on your shoulders like sugary sunshine?
Have you ever taken the time to pick blooming clover and smell it? It’s one of my favorite scents! Floral and very green and earthy. The springiest thing ever!
I’ll love the snow until forever comes and leaves again.
When you feel like you’re sitting inside a snowglobe, cozy and warm with your coffee and a book while the wind and the white rages about you. When you step outside in the quiet and hear the whisper of snowflakes falling on their brothers. When you walk outside and the moonlight makes the earth glow.
White outlines, blue shadows and a stark, snow-covered field against a simmering sunset.
Most of all, how the snow makes embraces all the more warm.
Winter is beautiful and romantic and pure.
Drawing this alyssum reminded me of how they’d grow mounded up white and lovely in pots and barrels on the farm. I always saw them as snowbanks growing alongside snapdragons and zinnias under the hot summer sun. I’d sit beside them and imagine Christmas and bonfires and blankets made by the most beautiful hands.
Doesn’t Forsythia sound like the name of a beautiful, wizened old woman with thick, trailing white hair, a face full of freckles, and magic in her fingers?
Ahh, I love old fashioned flowers and old fashioned names…