Say it with flowers

I love fresh flowers.  Sadly, with frequent travel it is a luxury I cannot indulge in.  I do return home from each trip to a front garden full of roses.  They seem to bloom profusely, partly because I have given my neighbours permission to cut as many as they like for themselves.  It’s a win-win situation.

Last week a bunch of flowers was also a white flag to irate neighbours who I hadn’t met before and much to their frustration could not contact me when the fence blew down.

When my son was about five, the neighbour who lived across the road from us lost her husband to cancer.  My son promptly stated he wanted to give her flowers.  I cut some iceberg roses and placed them in a laundry basket as I snipped at the bushes, thinking I’d keep some for myself and do up a bunch for her.  No!  My son insisted, she was to have all of them.  The image of a five year old child staggering across our front yard to her home, laundry basket filled with white iceberg roses, is a precious memory.

My recent memories are embedded in flowers.  I’ve found in this State something is always blooming somewhere.

Oh!  the irony of living in a happy place and not knowing it!This morning I walked around in Foxes Lair.  There were so many flowers to see and enjoy.  It was overwhelming. The long view was beautiful.  But what was at my feet?I found this straggly plant, probably a weed.  Just green foliage but wait, there was a hint of colour.  It is imperceptible even now when I look for it.I waited for the sunrise and returned to the plant.I’m not sure if it is a weed or not but it lifted my flagging spirits.The tea tree flowers were growing everywhere, sprayed here and there, over leaf debris.Then there was this gorgeous plant.  Exquisite.This enamel orchid took my breath away.  I’ve never seen one this tiny.I looked deep into tiny flowers.  Each perfect in creation.This trigger plant was a stronger pink compared to those that were in the palest pink hues.A gorgeous succulent.There were all shades of purple.  This one so vivid against grey debris.

I walked around Foxes Lair this morning, listening to the crunch of my boots on dirt and dried leaves, the twittering of birds, the intermittent cacophony of kookaburras, the shower of gum nuts from above.

I know one thing for sure.  I can’t wait to return.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird