Un vrai, un beau, et le 21 Mars svp! Avec des vraies fleurs! Ca réclame des points d'exclamation!!! A profusion!!!!!Et des photos, bien sûr.

IMG_3524Parce que j'ai eu la chance immense d'avoir des gens pour m'apprendre les fleurs. Pas les noms, personne ne les savait trop, on les inventait. Non non. Apprendre à les regarder, les sentir, les découvrir, les choisir, les épargner, toujours en laisser pour les autres, et accepter tous les risques pour aller les zyeuter- les marécages, les heures de marche, la pluie, les tiques, les taureaux: TOUT.

Ma tante, d'abord, qui m'a fait passer des mercredi à courir après cyclamens, tulipes sauvages et autres jonquilles. Je rêvais secrètement de pouvoir m'arrêter, passer des journées dans la forêt, calée dans la mousse à imaginer des fées et autres créatures sylvestres.Mais ça n'a jamais beaucoup passioné ma tante, ni aucun adulte autour de moi d'ailleurs.

Ma mère, qui m'a appris le parfum des tapis de violettes qu'on essayait désespérement de ne pas écraser sur le bord du chemin qui montait chez ma grand-mère. Et celui, capiteux, indescriptible, des narcisses, qu'on allait cueillir à des kilomètres le dimanche même sous la pluie.

Et puis my man, qui m'a enseigné les vrais noms de fleurs, des arbres, et de toutes ces petites plantes que l'on remarque à peine. Les tulipes sauvages sont devenues fritillaires, et j'ai découvert des noms aussi étherés que la stellaire holostée, et toujours plus fort, la lathrée clandestine- même pas belle, mais avec un nom pareil, elle peut se le permettre....

IMG_3512la lathrée clandestine

Enfin, mes amis, Thierry et son Robert-qui-pue, Catherine et son cresson, Abel et ses orchidées.

Tout ça pour m'apercevoir que les fleurs rythment ma vie bien mieux que le calendrier. Ce sont elles qui me rappellent les naissances et les morts, les amis et les saisons. Les voyages. La poésie. La vie. Où que vous soyiez, joyeux printemps à vous.

 

IMG_3544            To Daffodils

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
         You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
         Has not attain'd his noon.
                        Stay, stay,
                Until the hasting day
                        Has run
                But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.

 

We have short time to stay, as you,
         We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
         As you, or anything.
                        We die
                As your hours do, and dry
                        Away,
                Like to the summer's rain;
Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
Ne'er to be found again.
                               Robert Herrick

A glorious, genuine, 21st March first day of spring!With real flowers! It calls for exclamation points!! Loads of them!!!!!!And a few pics, of course.

IMG_3522Cause i was immensely lucky: i was always surrounded with people who taught me flowers. Not their names as such, nobody really knew them, we kind of made them up. No. I was taught how to watch them, smell them, feel them, touch them, discover them, choose them, protect them, always leave some to anyone who might happen to walk past, and take all the risks to "get an eyeful"-marshes, hour-long walks, rain, ticks, bulls: ALL the jazz.

My auntie first, with whom i spent wednesdays running after cyclamens, wild tulips, and various daffodils. I secretly wished I would stop and spend the whole day sitting in the forest- the moss looked so cosy_, imagining fairies and other foresty creatures. But grown ups are not supposed to be into that kind of thing.

 

My mother, who taught me the fragrance of violets- while hopelessly trying not to tread on them, there were so many by the side of the drive up to my grandmother's. And the intoxicating, powerful and unique perfume of narcissus- we used to drive miles on Sunday afternoons just to get a few of them, even in the rain.

 

IMG_3526Then, my beloved! Who taught me the "real" names of flowers, of trees, and of all these tiny plants which generally go unnoticed. Wild tulips turned out to be "fritilairs", and i became acquainted with incredible names such as addersmeat(Stellaria holostea) , or even latraea clandestina- purple toothwort....definitely unaesthetic, but then again this unusual name makes up for it

 

IMG_3512purple toothwort

Finaly, my friends, Thierry's Stinking Robert,Catherine's watercress, Abel's orchids.....

For flowers were always  better landmarks in my life than dates and calendars. They remind me of babies born, of people and loved ones who died, of friends, of seasons. Travels. Poetry. Life.

Wherever you are, happy spring to you!

 

IMG_3544            To Daffodils

Fair Daffodils, we weep to see
         You haste away so soon;
As yet the early-rising sun
         Has not attain'd his noon.
                        Stay, stay,
                Until the hasting day
                        Has run
                But to the even-song;
And, having pray'd together, we
Will go with you along.

 

We have short time to stay, as you,
         We have as short a spring;
As quick a growth to meet decay,
         As you, or anything.
                        We die
                As your hours do, and dry
                        Away,
                Like to the summer's rain;
Or as the pearls of morning's dew,
Ne'er to be found again.
                               Robert Herrick

IMG_3520