little signs

narcissus, dafs, buttercups- what have you -in a delft tulipiere. I cut them from the borders-or I should say the yet to be borders-but I just couldn't wait. My grandmother Naomi had long wide borders of them and never CUT.

Not my philosophy. Never a huge fan of yellow flowers- I can't deny the spring yellows are glorious, forsythia and daffodils. Perhaps it is their yellow burst of sunshine that casts away the bleak winter ground that makes Yellow so perfect for these blooms.

dafs and delft

I know this doesn't look like much-but these pale pink camellias are cherished-Every One. The tall camellia was my grandmother's-Yes, one and the same as the uncut daf borders. When Naomi died my father moved this camellia and the Hope of its continued bounty. When my parents left their home-I too-moved said camellia and same Hope. Well- as if that wasn't enough trauma to the dear thing- it was moved back to my hometown along with ME 4 years ago. Now you can see why these fine little pink petals and every one thereafter- is Beloved. Family. Hope.

family. hope.

the pretty pink hyacinths are a gift from a dear- dearest friend. a lovely surprise when I last stopped by her house. I love the soft fine blades of grass planted with the hyacinths. Cherished for its flowery cluster, that unbending stalk is a perfect accompaniment to the delicate stars that bear up against the last inevitable surprise snow of winter. This pink one cherished because it was a gift from a friend.

hyacinths and friendship