If you've seen my storefront on Etsy, or heard me go on, you know I adore flowers. Because practically every jewelry photograph I take also includes a flower. I love them. And I have a huge, out of control, cottage garden to prove it, which, as you can imagine, the Irishman just thrives on mowing around... tee hee.... (she giggles with hand covering mouth)
So, Just for you, dear friends, I padded barefooted out onto the lawn this morning and took this picture of my favorite flower on the planet, since I was gushing over it and going on about it last night and you were probably thinking... what in the devil is she babbling about! Well, maybe you didn't say quite that. In fact, I'm sure you didn't. You instead were probably saying...
so what's it look like?
As I learned (or should've learned) in all my writing classes that I failed in miserably: show the reader! Don't tell them! So.... just for you... here's my beloved poppy. Second only to the tulip,of course, in my favorite things on momma earth. Problem is, they don't stay around long enough, do they? Just a week or so every June.
Not nearly long enough I should think.
They have no fragrance to speak of either, but what they lack in scent, they make up for in sheer, unequivocal drama! Though, they are NOT the drama queens of the garden at all! That lofty title, my dear friends, goes to the one and only rose ... who must be fiddled with constantly; fed, weeded around, watered, bug-picked and pruned and prodded like a high class hooker ... I should think, never having known a high class hooker, you know. Okay, let's dis that sentence and say rather ... pruned and prodded like a Hollywood starlet.
No, the poppy is absolutely gorgeous and comes back gorgeous every year without one single solitary lifting of a pinky by me ever. In fact, she hates to be fiddled with. Hates to have her soil mucked about in, hates to be touched even! Yes, she's a tad persnickety in the absolute opposite way the rose is ... but ... flowers are just like us I suppose, aren't they? All their own unique personalities and styles. Well, girls will be girls.
This photo does not do this queen of flowers justice at all! Because I'm no photographer, for one, that certainly accounts for something. And two, it's been misting all night in true Northwest fashion, and then the sun came out just long enough to burn the whetted petals
off all my little beauties!
You see, in all her beauty and glory, the rain and sun fade miss poppy's edges to a flimsy grey, just another one of her little touchy idiosyncrasies that drives the ordinary gardener to madness. (I, however, am no ordinary gardener. Being mad already!) When I say "mad" here, of course you know I refer to a certain state of insanity ... being married to an Irishman, I've picked up some terminology that is strictly un-American, if you know what I mean.
So, yes, getting back to my point, she turns an ugly shade of putrid, to put it bluntly, eventually. As if she doesn't have enough reasons to hate her! I can just hear her in her Lauren Bacallish voice croon softly ... "don't hate me because I'm beautiful!" Honey, we say, there's plenty of other reasons to hate you, so don't flatter yourself! But now I never actually say that.
You KNOW I don't say that!
I just say, why would I hate you for being beautiful and making my garden look beautiful!
I love beauty! Momma earth loves beauty. It's all good!
So, sorry I got a little side tracked up there, what I mean to say is, enjoy miss poppy the minute she is in bloom, that's my motto (okay, one of many motto's I'll be happy to go into more detail about another time). Which translates to; once they drop their fuzzy green grey little casings (which are too cute for words!), their wrinkly paper mache petals will be the purest orange you've ever seen in your entire life and you'll want to go eat them! But don't eat them, no, not good to do that. Go touch them! And even (shhhhhhhhh!).... cut them ...and bring them inside to enjoy without momma nature butting her nose into your business.
Before miss poppy has a hissy fit and turns some ungodly shade
of gross and looks like hell in a hand basket.
So ... now ... getting back to the purpose of all this flowerography-babble ... being a bead goddess, my question to you my friends is, any ideas about what sort of beads will capture the beauty of my poppies? I'm thinking coral and amethyst, but the coral will have to have an orangey sort of feel to it ... the amethyst the deepest purple ever, since the center of the poppy is nearly black! Hmmmmm.... I feel a bout of shopping coming on!
James! Fire up the caddy...
(there really is no James, nor is there a caddy, there's a Subaru, actually, but if I had a chauffeur I'd like his name to be James)
Later my friends, ~Lora