Pixie dust dandelions are on my dinning table this morning.
They are like lanterns for a fairy.
The thin stems form triangular sections in space.
A tiny kingdom perched above an old glass bottle.
They fade slowly,
and each day I see them
they become more fragile.
I want to blow them to the wind some days,
like a real dandelion.
Just hold them to my lips and let them fly off into the air.
Where they belong.
A wild weed born from the side of the sea.
But I carried them all this way,
Up the hill to the house,
and gently, I made them a home,
here, where maybe, just maybe
a tiny little fairy
could fly with ease
out into a fantastical world.
Week 23. Message in a bottle.
I still love weeds and wildflowers. I am so fascinated with wild weeds rather than pretty, rare flowers (even though Orchids was my last blog entry). I guess like with people, I feel a sort of compassion for people who have a hard road, and therefore those hardier flowers. Maybe that’s what makes me want to stop and really look at them and seek out their story.
One day while walking by the river’s edge with my 6 year old daughter, I spotted a peculiar wildflower. I pointed it out to her and we careful inspected it. We agreed that it had a fairly like demeanor. I brought a bunch home and placed them in an old bottle. Days would pass and every time I looked at them I felt time reminding me to capture them somehow, to find a way to hold on to them. I took photos but my busy schedule did not allow time for me to paint them. I kept thinking about what lesson they could send me, knowing that any flower that made it into my house could have a message. Then, finally, one morning after reading the poem I wrote about those strange weeds I saw something, as clear as day. It struck me that I wanted to hold on to those small delicate flowers. I wanted to capture them, the same way I wanted hold on to my daughter as she grows up. Maybe she is the tiny fairy that I need to let go of. Turns out she is set to go to Croatia with her dad this Thursday, for 11 days, the first time with out me on such a long trip. I think maybe my subconscious needed to blow some dandelions into the air, my small way of letting her go off into the fantastical world.