ranunculus | seeking querencia

Some time ago, I mentioned that I intended to stop talking and begin living those items on long to-do list. One of them was to learn the art of photography. Make no mistake, I am two steps below a novice, but still I am learning bit by bit and having loads of fun doing it. As I looked at some of the photos that I’ve taken, I realized that 90% of my photographs contain flowers of one type or another. It’s no surprise really, because I adore flowers.

Image via Wikipedia

My great-grandmother grew the most beautiful roses. When I was growing up, we lived with her. Even though she passed away some time ago, I can still see her fertilizing her many rose bushes with egg shells and spent coffee grounds. She never used store bought fertilizer but her roses flourished. I’d give anything to have inherited her green thumb, but aside from lavender, herbs and some jasmine, that thrived despite me, a cutting garden is not in my future. Just ask the rose bush that I bought about a month ago; because of me, it is now in flower heaven.

Since I faced the truth that I cannot and will never have a garden like Martha Stewart, a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. Yet, I have to satisfy my flower obsession some how, and I am not the type to wait for my dear husband to buy them for me. (I’d be long dead, bless his heart. 🙂 But really, it’s not his fault because I don’t give him a chance.) So, the local florists and grocery store floral departments (of course, I am not speaking of a run-of-the-mill grocery store.) are my suppliers. They satisfy my needs. I thought that I’d share my some of favorite flowers with you. In thinking about it, it is an impossible task because I love them all. Here are my top 5 in no particular order:

Lavender
Ranunculus
Tuberose
Hyacinth
Lotus
Gerber Daisy

Okay, yes, I can count but number 6 was mandatory since one of my precious g’daughters is named Daisy. Now your turn, tell me, what are some of your favorite flowers?

Blessings, lydia

Image by Bob AuBuchon via Flickr

Early this morning, as I opened the Harry Potter book that I was re-reading, I discovered two pressed flowers–one a ranunculus and the other, a petite red rose. From their condition, it is obvious, that I’d placed them there some time ago. After appreciating their beauty, I began wracking my brain to recall the circumstances that led me to place these flowers in this book. When? Why?

I have purchased hundreds of flowers over the past years, and there was some reason that I pressed and saved these particular flowers. Perhaps they were especially beautiful; perhaps they held some special meaning to me. What is it? Where is it? I can not remember. Is the memory buried so deep in my subconscious mind that I cannot easily extract it, or is it, as I fear, that the memory is gone, a long, lost memory, never to be remembered, that special meaning forever lost? Gone to rest where all lost memories go.

I was lost in thought thinking about my life and all of the things that I have done, and people that I have met, knowing that some of these memories are forever lost to me. It saddens me to know that there will come a time when my future self may forget the import and significance of any number of today’s meaningful moments. This is further punctuated by the fact that I have holding over my head, testing to determine whether my “memory issues” are due to the medications that I take for my chronic pain condition, or something much more sinister. Although the testing still scares me a bit, my faith allows me to feel somewhat positive about the outcome, whatever that may be.

The happenings of my life, big, small and seemingly insignificant, form my memories. Those memories remind me of the trials, tribulations and circuitous routes that I have taken to become the person that I am now, as well as the person that I will become. They comprise the sum of who I am and I don’t want to forget them. If I do, I lose bits and pieces of me.

Over my lifetime, I have journaled intermittently, but consistently for more than ten years. Within a matter of hours, my journal has grown from one of those things that “I should do” to something that “I must do.” It is now my historical record of the sweet, special and important memories in my life, so that in the future, I won’t be mourning the loss of a long lost memory. It will have to do.

Blessings and peace,