Something Beautiful is a 2013 self-imposed initiative to find a visual feast for each day of the year.
Cincinnati is white. About 2″ white. Wisconsin storm dropped in last night. A month ago I’d have waxed rhapsodic about the frosty fantasy world. But that was a month ago. I have no more poetry for winter.
Everyone here craves color like green beans after a weekend of junk food. The yearning for a technicolor world moves to obsession by March. Not a surprise in the midst of the cruddy monotone of the midwest. Inevitably, my mind reaches into the old-fashioned flower gardens of my childhood for the deeply feminine scents and gentle but joyful palette of spring. Fair warning. The next few days will be flowers.
I make no apologies about being a sappy romantic when it comes to flowers. Give me those fragrant old beauties and put peonies at the head of the list. In this part of the world they are called “pinies.” Soft, sumptuous pinks. Delicate ivories. And sultry deep wines. The smell is perfection. And, the ants know it, too.
Peonies are said to symbolize good fortune in romance and happy marriage as well as bashfulness and compassion. To me, they are symbols of the beauty of farm life, the bounty of the housewife’s garden, and much more.