Looking at One Flower at a Time

Single poppy with buds

Bouquet
by Robert Francis

One flower at a time, please
however small the face.

Two flowers are one flower
too many, a distraction.

Three flowers in a vase begin
to be a little noisy.

Like cocktail conversation,
everybody talking.

A crowd of flowers is a crowd
of flatterers (forgive me).

One flower at a time.  I want
to hear what it is saying.

This was the lone poppy blooming in a bed of buds.  So I had no choice but to gaze intently at this one flower.  So much to see!  I was reminded of my Wordless Wednesday project of last year, when I took the time to photograph 12 views of a single object.

I think of Georgia O’Keeffe’s many flower paintings — most depict single flowers.  For most of my painting practice, I have been focussing on small watercolor sketches of single flowers, too.  But this year I have been branching into painting bouquets from time to time.  Even when painting bouquets, one has to paint one flower at a time!  Each one is a little portrait, so varied and unique.

For me, painting always involves looking deeply at things.  It adds another layer of enjoyment to seeing.

My first watercolor sketch of this single poppy

 

Another watercolor sketch of poppy

Looking at Things

“Looking at things is never time wasted.”
— Diane Athill, from Alive, Alive Oh! and Other Things that Matter

Buds are starting to pop!

 

Irises Clamoring to Be Heard

“Well. Then we had the irises, rising beautiful and cool on their tall stalks, like blown glass, like pastel water momentarily frozen in a splash, light blue, light mauve, and the darker ones, velvet and purple, black cat’s ears in the sun, indigo shadow, and the bleeding hearts, so female in shape it was a surprise they’d not long since been rooted out. There is something subversive about this garden of Serena’s, a sense of buried things bursting upwards, wordlessly, into the light, as if to point, to say: Whatever is silenced will clamor to be heard, though silently.”      ―Margaret Atwood, The Handmaid’s Tale

Irises

I’ve been watching these irises from buds to blooms:

 

The Perfect Time to Go a Budding

“In winter when there are no flowers, and leaves are rare, even larger buds are interesting and somewhat exciting. I go a budding like a partridge.”
— Henry David Thoreau, from Winter: The Writings of Henry David Thoreau, vol. 8, January 31, 1854

Azalea buds, Arboretum

Many trees and bushes are actively budding right now.  I saw these azalea buds along the Azalea Way path at the arboretum.

Azalea buds

And the magnolias are simply profligate with their showy, soft-as-mouse-fur, perky, candle-flame buds.

Magnolia buds

Watercolor sketches of magnolia buds

 

 

 

 

 

 

Okay, One Last Post as I Head Out the Door

Looking down the sidewalk in front of my house this morning

I carried my camera with me as I ran some last-minute errands this morning.  I wasn’t planning on doing another post today, but I want to show you what I am leaving behind for one month.  (Am I crazy for taking a vacation in April when it is so beautiful here??)  I’m consoling myself, knowing I can look back at this blog post from the road whenever I feel homesick.

 

Blooming Magnolia

“Nature is infinitely patient, one thing lives after another has given way; the magnolia’s blossoms die just as the cherry’s come to life.”
— Teju Cole, Open City

Magnolia in full blossom

The artist Ellsworth Kelly has captured the essence of the magnolia blossom in just a few clear lines.  The simplicity of his drawing is beguiling.

From Plant Drawings by Ellsworth Kelly

I was also inspired to try my hand at painting magnolia blossoms after seeing some botanical prints in Treasures of Botanical Art by Shirley Sherwood and Martyn Rix.

Magnolia painting by Siriol Sherlock

Magnolia painting by Barbara Oozeerall

My watercolor sketch of magnolia blossoms

Another watercolor sketch of magnolia blossoms

 

 

 

 

A Return to Jello Mold Farm

Jello mold with rabbit

While I was out driving in the country north of Seattle, I stopped by Jello Mold Farm to walk in the flower fields.  The beds are still awaking from winter dormancy.  A few more warm days, and this will be a totally different landscape.  Right now, the farm holds just the promise of blooms.

Here are some photos:

Bundled twine in readiness for planting

Forsythia

Yellow against gray — forsythia

Pussy willow and catkin

“I have a little pussy,
And her coat is silver gray;
She lives in a great wide meadow
And she never runs away.
She always is a pussy,
She’ll never be a cat
Because — she’s a pussy willow!
Now what do you think of that!
— author Unknown

Winter bed

Seed head

New buds

Old seed cases

Single dangling chestnut

Fallen chestnuts

Net over peony beds

Blossom

Last season’s hydrangea bed

Dried hydrangea

Wheelbarrows at rest

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Multiplied Green

Spring’s greening

Metamorphosis
by May Sarton

Always it happens when we are not there —
The tree leaps up alive into the air,
Small open parasols of Chinese green
Wave on each twig.  But who has ever seen
The latch sprung, the bud as it burst?
Spring always manages to get there first.

Lovers of wind, who will have been aware
Of a faint stirring in the empty air,
Look up one day through a dissolving screen
To find no star, but this multiplied green,
Shadow on shadow, singing sweet and clear.
Listen, lovers of wind, the leaves are here!

 

Dwarf Irises

Dwarf irises, a hybrid reticulata called ‘Katharine Hodgkin’

Keeping company with the crocuses and snowdrops is another diminutive late winter bloom — dwarf irises.  It was only last year that I first noticed this flower, a welcome addition to our gardens this time of year.

Unopened buds of dwarf iris

Dwarf iris reticulata

Taking the time to paint a flower portrait

Model for my watercolor sketch

Watercolor sketch of dwarf iris reticulata ‘Katharine Hodgkin’

 

 

 

 

The Beauty of the High Line in January

Walking the High Line

One of the top highlights of my first trip to New York City was walking the High Line, an elevated park built on an old railway.  It’s currently about 1.45 miles in length.  We walked the entire line, from the southern entrance in the Meatpacking District to its current terminus on 34th Street.  I wish I could return in each of the four seasons because as lovely as the park is in the cold of January, it must be even more vibrant in spring, summer, and fall.

History of the High Line

Let me take you on a virtual tour.

Steps up to the park from Gansevoort — a study in grays

Protecting a piece of art from the winter chill!

The High Line is dotted with many benches and plantings

Diane Von Furstenberg building next to the High Line

Sun deck

700 panes of colored glass — art installation called The River that Flows Both Ways by Spencer Finch

Huge glass window over a busy NYC street

First view of IAC Headquarters building designed by Frank Gehry

Frank Gehry’s IAC Building along High Line

Lights glow in the windows

Art installation called Broken Bridge II by El Anatsui

Wall art viewed from the High Line

Window overlooking the High Line

Nearby wall art seen from High Line

Benches with lighting near 34th St on the High Line

And here are some of the plants, trees, and flowers along the High Line in winter:

Jelena witch hazel