I love flowers. Born into a family who hails from an island
where there’s no shortage of them, I think this is something that’s imbedded in
my DNA. I found out the hard way that I’m allergic to daffodils, so I try to avoid them. But I make it
a point to have well-cared for flower beds (weather permitting) and freshly-cut
flowers inside the house year-round. In my view, there are three ingredients
that help turn a house into a home: flowers, pictures of loved ones and books.
Lots of books. Tchotchkes and
knick-knacks are mere dust collectors.
With Valentines Day right around the corner, there’s an
awful lot of talk these days about flowers, warning givers to be cognizant of
their meaning lest they embarrass themselves and offend the susceptibilities of
the object of their affection. Whenever I receive flowers I pay no attention to
their meaning, as my love for flowers supersedes all that other nonsense.
I, for one, like yellow roses (not because they represent
friendship and platonic love), but because I find yellow to be an uplifting,
cheery and happy color. I also like daisies and buttercups for their simplicity,
and blue hydrangeas because they remind me of my roots and that little island
where they seem to grow like weeds. But when all is said and done, these are my absolute favorites – we had
plenty of the white variety in our garden in Coimbra; unfortunately, winters
are too harsh and summers too hot and humid for them to grow where I now live.
If
anyone is curious, here’s a link to the symbolic meaning of flowers and
their respective colors, compliments of Teleflora
Yellow roses and
Calla lillies:
Daisies and
Buttercups:
Blue Hydrangeas:
[ parece a casa da minha avó; falta a anoneira e os araçais ]
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