If flowers could talk and tell me their stories

flower story“This is my Story. A story about flowers. When you see me now I am not what I have been. I have become an art piece.” I took this picture from an oil paint picture. The original picture came from a wall of a clinic which had since been sold. The owner has retired early and is now in a far away country. The picture is one of the several in my store. This one attracts me in the brilliance of the colors. Sometimes I wonder what the fresh flowers had really looked before they were captured in oil. If only this picture could talk and tell me the story of each flower. What are their names? Where are they from? How did they get captivated by the artist? Did he/she travel far to find such beauty? Did the artist leave them in the field while giving them a more permanent home?

I have found the following poem titled “Flowers” which describes aptly the silent but comforting interaction between flowers and human. I can see the smiles on these flowers. Don’t you?

Flowers

© Pearlyn

They have no mouth, but seem to speak
A thousand words so mild and meek.

They have no eyes , but seem to see
And bury thoughts into me.

They have no ears, but seem to hear
All my cries, my every tear.

They have no arms, but seem to pat
When with worries my heart is fat.

They have no feet, but seem to walk
Along with me in my dreams and talk.

They, I know, are the flowers so nice
That spread their fragrance a million miles.

Grow a few and then you’ll know
How your life is fresh and new.

With a smile so broad, I thank my God,
Whose work to imagine is really too hard.

(Poem taken from: https://www.familyfriendpoems.com/poem/flowers)

Tiny flowers and a poem

tiny-flowers
Tiny Tiny Flowers – Poem by Eloida Capuno: i always look
out for
those sweet
tiny
flowers
more than
the others
in the garden
with their
vibrant
colors
huge
and exotic
maybe
because
the little
ones
like some
innocent
children
are left
to fend for
themselves

I thought I would just post another poet’s poem on tiny flowers today. I took this picture because they are so tiny and their colors so quiet. When I look closely I realize that each flower is a cluster of many tinier flowers! Each tiny flower forming the overall formation is so orderly and cohesive with others in shape and size. I like the poem because I can also identify the little flowers with young poor children being forced into the street and left on their own to make a living. They are not completely helpless. They soon learn to form their own tiny regimental group just to stand together and survive together. Where do they learn to do so? Is there a program in their genes? I believe so. Even tiny flowers.

a happy song for the tiny

edge-flowers
Tiny flowers by the wayside. We often walk pass them. Sometimes we step on them. Not because we are callous and uncaring. We are conditioned to see big things. Big and loud colorful stuff. In my recent travel I visited two entirely different countries and in both places I found some tiny flowers which looked so insignificant that they could have been easily excluded from my camera. When I returned and looked at the photos I found the exceptionalism in me stopping and looking at something small and quiet.

I ask myself why I have taken photos of some tiny flowers by the wayside. When I walk in the park across my patio why I do bother to look at the grass and the tiny leaves that are sprouting out from the crevices between the rocks and record their existence for a moment?

I did not come with perfect eyesight since young. The class teacher discovered this when I went to school. Artificial lenses helped me to function to some extent but it finally reached a point when I had to do a RLE (Refractive Lens Exchange). Taking photos of tiny things was not an easy task previously. After the RLE the tiny world becomes bright and clear and attractive. I see butterflies and bees and other tinier creatures too. Such a tiny world may be considered by others as tiny and ordinary and part of mundane living, they are fascinating to me. I can spend a whole morning walking and watching little things and feel my spirit rejoicing inside. A happy song will birth and lift me to another level into another realm of reality.

Bible verses from Psalm 104 (excerpts from NKJV):

He makes springs pour water into the ravines;
it flows between the mountains.
11
They give water to all the beasts of the field;
the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
12
The birds of the sky nest by the waters;
they sing among the branches.
13
He waters the mountains from his upper chambers;
the land is satisfied by the fruit of his work.
14
He makes grass grow for the cattle,
and plants for people to cultivate—
bringing forth food from the earth:
15
wine that gladdens human hearts,
oil to make their faces shine,
and bread that sustains their hearts.
16
The trees of the Lord are well watered,
the cedars of Lebanon that he planted.
17
There the birds make their nests;
the stork has its home in the junipers.
18
The high mountains belong to the wild goats;
the crags are a refuge for the hyrax.

24
How many are your works, Lord!
In wisdom you made them all;
the earth is full of your creatures.
25
There is the sea, vast and spacious,
teeming with creatures beyond number—
living things both large and small.

30
When you send your Spirit,
they are created,
and you renew the face of the ground.

31
May the glory of the Lord endure forever;
may the Lord rejoice in his works—
32
he who looks at the earth, and it trembles,
who touches the mountains, and they smoke.

33
I will sing to the Lord all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.
34
May my meditation be pleasing to him,
as I rejoice in the Lord.

Daisies and stars: I see thee glittering from afar

yellow-daisies-white-butterflyTiny but not to be ignored. Often we are conditioned to think little of small ordinary things, such as the daisies of the field. Yet, more often than not, the small things are what that make up this world of vastness, like each droplet that makes up the seemingly borderless oceans that cover the whole earth. Likewise, whilst some more popularly favored flowers, such as, roses, are reserved as a majestic symbol, field flowers which are hardly mentioned in memorable imagined or factual narratives continue to bloom in their quiet unassuming yet resilient manner. A daisy symbolizes innocence and purity. It can also symbolize new beginnings. Other meanings associated with the daisy are faith, cheer, simplicity, loyal love, beauty, gentleness, youth, modesty, and romance.

I ask, what did some great painters paint? Claude Monet painted water lilies and poppy. He spoke this, “I perhaps owe having become a painter to flowers.” But he did paint daisies too. What did great poets write about? Surprisingly I found some poetic writings on daisies. Like Wordsworth did, the poets noted how this tiny flower glows and shines like a pretty star. I took the picture while visiting and staying in a remote tropical outback. The tiny flowers cheerfully greeted me with their radiant color every morning without fail. The country suffers draught yearly for a long period which can come to half a year. The daisies without artificial irrigation vanish and hide themselves in seeds perhaps as I cannot figure out how the root survives in the surface powdery dust. When the rain comes they burst forth from the crust and rise with the crescendo of the torrential rain, with yellow blooms that outshine others. They are truly amazing shining knights in the wild.

“Daisies infinite
Uplift in praise their little glowing hands,
O’er every hill that under heaven expands.”
-Ebenezer Elliott, Miscellaneous Poems, Spring, line 13.

“And daisy-stars, whose firmament is green.”
-Thomas Hood, Plea of the Midsummer Fairies, 36.

“I see thee glittering from afar–
And then thou art a pretty star;
Not quite so fair as many are
In heaven above thee!
Yet like a star, with glittering crest,
Self-poised in air thou seem’st to rest;–
May peace come never to his nest,
Who shall reprove thee!”
-William Wordsworth

Shine on, little stars.

Further notes on the meaning of yellow daisies: (Quoted)
The color yellow is symbolic of friendship and joy. Yellow is the color of sunshine and is associated with joy, happiness, wisdom, and energy. People of high intellect favor yellow.

Paintings by famous painters on daisies:
Famous Oil Painting Bouquet of Gladiolas, Lilies and Daisies by Claude Monet
Daisies by William-Adolphe Bouguereau (1894)
The daisy chain by Maude Goodman (1936)

I saw a crowd, A host, of golden shinning daffodils

Shine little flowers, just like little stars.
shine-yellow-flowersOne day a woman decided to plant a single bulb. This single bulb turned into many more and soon she had a field filled with daffodils. The daffodil field has refreshed many tired and wearied hearts and her story of a mere small and humble start with just one single bulb which grew into a vast sea of beautiful yellow flowers has motivated others and changed the belief that a small thing is too small to matter. Daffodils belong to the genus Narcissus. Their flowers have a trumpet-shaped structure set against a star-shaped background. In temperate climates they flower among the earliest blooms in spring. I took this picture in early spring. Daffodils often grow in large clusters, covering lawns and even entire hillsides with yellow. The flowers symbolize friendship, and are some of the most popular flowers due to their unmatched beauty. Here is a poem all about daffodils and stars, beautifully presenting a lively picture of daffodils that dance like the stars, shining and twinkling. Even a lonely traveler stops feeling lonely in their company!

I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud
BY WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,
In such a jocund company:
I gazed—and gazed—but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.