Category Archives: Flowers

It’s difficult to upstage two dozen roses, particularly when they’re in fiery shades of orange and salmon in the hues that Ina Garten so favors. The only way is to shock and awe your way into new realms of wonderful by complementing them with an equally-striking shade of chartreuse, as seen in the pair of sweet potato vines I added to this already-remarkable bouquet.

There’s something to be said for the simplicity of a single-flower-style arrangement, especially when the blooms are super-saturated in these rich pigments. I appreciate the elegance of the notion, the way form and architecture come to greater light through repetition and symmetry. Almost anything can be made more impressive when en masse. Sometimes, though, you need a little extra pizzazz. Something that adds a sparkle and pop, the glittering cherry on a sundae dripping with sweet goodness. That finds form in the humble sweet potato vine, which winds its way through those rosy environs to set off its lime-green leaves in striking contrast. The first hard frost will instantly fell such delicate foliage; this is one way of prolonging the beauty if the weather forecasters give warning.

We’ve had a darker start to summer than anyone would like, but there are ways to bring a sunny side to circumstances no matter how much rain, or lack of electricity, might work to dampen the day. Such was the state of affairs when JoAnn and some of the Cape Crew stopped by this weekend. It’s been too long since we hung out, and this is something for which we’ve all been waiting. Reunions with dear friends are somehow more wonderful in the summer, as if the universe is conspiring to create its own dose of happy kismet. We all seemed to need that.

There’s an awful lot of sadness and heartache in the world today – on a universal and personal level for some of us – and the only way to get through it is to surround yourself with friends and family and hold on until things get better. Parents have passed, relationships have ended, and everyone feels a little lost lately. Summer can only ease so much; one needs a good group of friends to make up for the rest.

They arrived to a batch of lavender martinis, and brought with them roses and crystal cuff links and Portuguese pastries. We hit it hard, but not too hard, starting early in the afternoon, and by the time dinner rolled around, we were feeling no pain. Good thing too, as the electricity went out just as the meal was served. The sun was starting to go down, so we brought in some extra candles and had an old-fashioned candle-light dinner. It added to the atmosphere and the intimacy, and maybe those little foibles are meant to be. Like clockwork, the electricity was back on by the time dessert (New York cheesecake!) was being plated. Afterward, we played a few rounds of Cards Against Humanity, then called it a relatively early night.

The next morning was greeted with brunch and then a full day of poolside revelry. The sun gods, so fickle and moody these past few weeks, smiled indulgently and granted us a perfect day. Our guests, friends old and new, eased into the weekend. The first night is always flush with excitement and catching-up; the second day is when you can ripen into relaxation. We sat by the pool letting the sun move slowly overhead, lazily draining the cooler of beer, and digging into the red pepper dip once brunch had settled.

As with most summer weekends, it went by too quickly, but we’ll have the memory of it when the days turn cold again.

Here we have the classic clematis, which in this case climbed so high I never did get a proper full-on view of the pretty flower. There’s something enchanting about viewing it all from below, however, as these shots will attest. It leaves a little more to the imagination, and we fill in the missing parts with tales and notions that might be far more interesting than what could ever really be there.

The idea of a flower being out of reach lends temptation and desire to an otherwise common clematis. Too often we want what is just beyond our grasp.

Here’s to straining to see it.

A yellow ceramic hurricane vase forms the perfect backdrop to this bold fuchsia bloom. The colors depend on one another for maximum pop, complementing and cajoling each to loftier heights of greater glory. It is my humble opinion that one can never have enough color. Our bleak world demands it.

“The human soul is hungry for beauty; we seek it everywhere – in landscape, music, art, clothes, furniture, gardening, companionship, love, religion and in ourselves. No-one would desire not to be beautiful. When we experience the Beautiful, there is a sense of homecoming. Some of our most wonderful memories are of beautiful places where we felt immediately at home. We feel most alive in the presence of the Beautiful for it meets the needs of our soul.” ~ John O’Donohue

“How can we ever know the difference we make to the soul of the earth? Where the infinite stillness of the earth meets the passion of the human eye, invisible depths strain towards the mirror of the name. In the word, the earth breaks silence.” ~ John O’Donohue

“When our eyes are graced with wonder, the world reveals its wonders to us. There are people who see only dullness in the world and that is because their eyes have already been dulled. So much depends on how we look at things. The quality of our looking determines what we come to see.” ~ John O’Donohue

A promise of beauty, kept.

The gradual unfurling of a peony bloom.

A subtle perfume, befitting the fewer petals.

This is no bomb-style blossom.

It is impler. More elegant. More refined.

And it’s only just begun.

Some peonies are shy at the beginning, bashfully peeking out from a cloak of petals.

But this one open up into something gorgeous.

It just needs a little coaxing.

The best always do.

The parade of peonies rockets forward, rushing toward its finale in these 90-degree days. There seems to be no happy medium for upstate New York weather, so while we were in a cool weather cycle, the peonies stayed in bud for longer than usual. Now they are popping open right and left. This beauty was too pretty not to clip and save from the heat. It’s a work of art for its structural grace as much as its painted petals.

In the shifting light afforded by our spinning planet, the petals of a peony appear to be different shades. It is just one of the many ways that peonies enchant and enthrall. This variety has more blue tones in it than you can glean from these photos, which read much redder than it is in person. More magic, more floral trickery.

We hardly ever get to see the first peony bloom. In the fifteen or so years after planting this specimen in the front yard, we’ve only ever been around to see it open up once or twice. Usually we are on vacation in Ogunquit, Maine, when the peony parade begins. It happens like clockwork on Memorial Day weekend, no matter what kind of winter we’ve had, and no matter how screwy the rest of the seasonal line-up is behaving. We were scheduled to be in Maine again this year, but Andy’s Dad was in the hospital and not doing well, so we had to stay home. This is the consolation prize. The silver lining. And it was the best decision anyway, because time with loved ones is more valuable than anything else.

Had we gone, we would have missed out on all this beauty. I find their fragrance most potent when they first open. It’s pretty powerful at any point, but that first whiff after a whole year of being away from the authentic scent of peonies is a soul-enriching experience.

It is the scent of promise ~ the promise of summer.

It is the scent of memory ~ the memory of my childhood. A neighbor’s bed of peonies behind a chain link fence. The Ko garden filled with nodding peony heads after a heavy rain. Our living room scented with a bouquet in the cool stillness of early afternoon.

It is the scent of happiness ~ the happiness of holding a white peony to my nose in the Boston Public Garden and smiling on a sunny, perfect day.

For now, it is the scent of the present. We will return to Ogunquit this summer. At this moment, our hearts are here, and even in the rain the peonies are blooming.

Truth be told, I’ve never been a passionflower fan. There seems to be an awful lot of vining and trailing and training involved in order to produce one or two of these admittedly fascinating blooms. As a kid, this would have appealed to my over-the-top tendencies, but now I find myself looking at the whole rather than one specific attribute (such as the bloom) so I enjoy them in others’ pots and gardens, or at the bursary, which is where this shot originated.