Why Tuesday should feel so much worse than Monday is one of life’s more bothersome mysteries. The Tuesday Blues are a real thing, and sometimes the only thing to combat their shadow is something like these gorgeously-shaded grape hyacinths. The colors of these are more delicate and nuanced than the ones that are more commonly found in the spring garden, and in the greenhouse where I found this grouping, they are far less tattered than those thrown about by spring winds and storms. 

The term ‘hot-house flower’ is usually used in disparaging fashion, describing some overly-delicate person considered too sensitive or sheltered for their own good. Personally, I’ve always thought of a hot-house flower as something rare and exotic, something to be exalted and honored, and if that means being a little more careful and considerate of them, all the better. 

So here’s to the hot-house flowers, like this variety of grape hyacinth, lucky and fortunate to be raised outside of the winter wilderness. We should not begrudge it such a pampered life. 

While outside, April showers…

And all the rain of the past week has put a damper on all the outside work that needs to be finished. I’ve always taken rain as nature’s cue to slow down, particularly at this time of the year when too many of us try to do too many things. Spring has us all a little antsy, and in that diabolical way Mother Nature has, it won’t let us out until we’ve learned to find peace inside. 

To that end, I fill the house with flowers and prettiness, easing the mind with meditation and reading. Quiet pursuits with serenity as their guiding force. A Saturday in spring may start quietly. There will be time for summer noise soon enough. 

Fiery of shade and flame-like of hue, this tulip bloom is a little globe on fire, and it’s inspiring me to burn with the brightest flame, no matter what the cost or wear and tear. “My candles burns at both ends, it will not last the night,” Edna St. Vincent Millay once wrote, “But Ahh my foes, and oh my friends, it gives a lovely light!” 

The older I get, the less willing I am to put up with the bullshit. More patient and tolerant in many ways, I’m also well-aware of my breaking point, and what I will or won’t tolerate. Baseless attacks on loyalty and friendship are foremost among those things that cannot be ignored. Peddling in lies and false tales won’t be allowed either. Try me and find out. 

In the past, such a stance was forced and propped up by insecurity and doubt. Lashing out was a way to mask feelings of inferiority. These days, I don’t feel the need to shout. More is accomplished – and in more frightening fashion – when the words are spoken quietly, with assurance, genuine self-confidence, and the irrefutable backing of truth. 

When the fires burn low, and the ash crumbles, it is the truth that will remain – crystalline and unassailable – forged as if in hell, tempered by an ever-present divinity, and sparkling for all the world to see.

The forecast for the rest of the week calls for rain every damn day, so I’m posting a few sunny flower pics in the hope that they bring cheer when the clouds come to stay. These little white daisy-like blooms are produced in abundance on their stems and were, I’m slightly ashamed to admit, designed as filler for some bolder and bigger lilies and sunflowers. Both of those ended their show before these little beauties gave in, and so I can now appreciate them for the wonder they are. 

Their unassuming subtlety and quiet countenance deceptively hide the power of their effect. When viewed up close, and also en masse, their enchantment only grows. 

It is precisely the sort of magic balm we need for these rainy days.