I often bemoan the difficulties with my memory. Words, in either English or French, are almost there but disappear with the wisp of a powder puff. In their stead, I will pounce upon useless details that serve nothing. At times I am fearful for the future, wondering if there will be nothing left but dust. And so I document, in thoughts and pictures, events that I would be better off simply enjoying, in order to safe guard them somewhere. An external hard drive of my life.
And yet there can be certain upsides to my state. I keep my favorite novels on the shelf, knowing that I will be able to reread them anew with only the vaguest recollections, touch points of a ship bobbing on the tide. I experienced a similar moment of “oh, yes” today at the market, watching a young woman tuck a paper-wrapped bouquet of peonies under her arm. “I love peonies,” I remembered.
And so I walked up past the baskets of strawberries to the flower stand for the first time in months, since autumn, having let orchid statues fill the vases past their winter due date. The seller smiled with surprise to see me. “It has been a long time.” It has, I nodded. He knows that I prefer lighter colors, white whenever possible, yet steered me towards coral tight-fisted blooms. As I was preparing to pay, he turned as he often does to grab their paler cousins and wrapped them too, a gift. “They won’t last past the weekend anyway.” I gave my sincere thanks, for that is what they were and wished him a Bon Weekend.
Arriving back at the apartment, I stacked my red peppers and tomatoes, leaving the flowers for last, until even after having wiped down the kitchen. I reached up into the glass cabinet to bring down the right vases and trimmed the stems. Lowering the bouquets into water, I arranged them with tiny pushes, a balancing act and was content with my work. Content with the soft feathering petals and light smoke of fragrance. Content in recognition, the pleasure of forgetting.
Merci beaucoup et Bon Dimanche…
Happy Mother's Day! And yes, they are late here too this year but oh so worth the wait…
Today is another day and I hope it is a better one for you…
Thank you Loree…Am wondering if the heat has started yet for you in Malte??
Well, there ya go, N! I just need to hire a scribe to follow me around! 🙂 But it is a great point…No they don't change much, nor improve enormously for that matter…
Oh, I wish that weren't the case Teresa Maria, but thank you…
Your photos are always so amazing! I don't spend enough time reading other blogs, but yours is a must for me!
Your words and peonies are beautiful Heather. I wish you a special day that you won't soon forget.
XXX
Debra~
We are all this way until we see or smell something we remember beautifully. Then we know. We know we cannot live without them. We must have them, even the simplest of them will make us happy, won't they? Flowers, so femine, should always be beside a woman, always.
The beauty of a peony…
Perhaps the memory slips away into our subconscious… but every time those soft fragrant petals unfurl… it's like witnessing a small miracle…
Happy Sunday, Heather… enjoy your blooms… xv