Naked at Birth, Aunt Olivia’s poppy in Taos before blooming,
photos of flowers © 2008 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
Early in his book Seeds from a Birch Tree: Writing Haiku and the Spiritual Journey, Clark Strand laments that we Americans have lost the vital connection to nature that haiku requires. This essential something is “the sketch from life.” Just as the landscape painter draws what he sees outdoors, the sketch from life is a way for writers to see nature as if for the first time.
In America, as we come to the end of the 20th century, it is questionable whether we ever really see nature at all. Most of us live our lives behind walls. We drive nearly everywhere we go. We work in temperature-controlled environments. When snow falls, we salt our driveways to melt it right away. Few if any of us know the names of more than twenty birds or flowers.
Did you catch the last sentence? Few if any of us know the names of more than twenty birds or flowers.
Because we have lost our connection to nature, Strand goes on to say, modern people carry a feeling of loss. We carry a unique sadness, which may account for why many of us feel that our lives have lost meaning.
poppy columbine
Morning glory!
Another thing
I will never know
wild rose geranium
Few if any of us know the names of more than twenty birds or flowers.
It’s a simple thing, being able to name flowers. Yet, it’s true — many of us don’t know the names of even the flowers that grow in our own yards, much less the bigger world around us.
Let me show you. Here are the flower names I know:
rose, hollyhock, lilac, delphinium, larkspur, columbine, iris, lily, geranium, pansy, petunia, zinnia, marigold, cosmos, dahlia, snapdragon, sweet william, sweet pea, morning glory, bird of paradise, daisy, sunflower, lavendar, flax, poppy, porchulaca, gladiolus, tulip, daffodil, cornflower, mum, mexican primrose, datura, statice, bachelor button, black-eyed susan, carnation, hyacinth, yarrow, lambs ear, aster, poinsettia…
Ah, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Still, do you have any idea how many flower names I don’t know? Hundreds? No, thousands. Botanists estimate there are more than 240,000 flowering plants in the world!
Natalie Goldberg, in her book Old Friend from Far Away, offers these suggestions, among many, for writing memoir:
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Use your senses.
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Get concrete.
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Stay detailed.
These recommendations are related to being connected to nature, to knowing the names of flowers and birds. Open your eyes. Carry with you on nature walks a book of flowers that grow in your part of the world, and when you come upon a blossom you don’t know, look up its name.
Summer is one of the best times to learn the names of flowers. Just the basics. Great if you can distinguish between a California poppy and an Oriental one, but isn’t it enough to know a poppy from a primrose? And how much more rich my writing if I can paint a picture of the decades-old potted geraniums, ancient and spidery, versus just talking about the potted plants my mother-in-law tends.
So do this: walk around your yard or down the road, to a place where flowers are in bloom. Which ones do you know? Look at the ones you don’t know. Consult your book to see what they’re called.
Come back and write about flowers. Use their names. Or, if you prefer, pick a flower you knew by name and write only about that one.
Walk, observe, write. For fifteen minutes. Prose or haiku.
When you’re done with this Writing Practice, keep on learning the names of those flowers. Your writing will blossom.
Cornflower Blue, wild cornflower blooming on Morada Lane,
photo © 2008 by ybonesy. All rights reserved.
redravine.wordpress.com 
ybonesy, these photographs are stunning! I couldn’t sleep so decided to get up and sit on the couch for a while. Can’t see the Moon. Seems very dark outside. Then I decided to check red Ravine; now I’m completely cheered up by this post.
I like how Clark Strand’s quote is woven in. His book about haiku is so much about learning to pay attention to what’s around us outside, even in our own backyards. It’s very grounding to notice the details of nature.
I remember, too, when I first started studying with Natalie (she taught sometimes in Minnesota back then) and she would talk about the details of the elms and birch that lined her street in St. Paul and that we should pay attention to what’s around us — it makes our writing come alive. And she always mentioned the Russian Olives in New Mexico and I had never paid attention to them until she talked about them. Then every time I went to New Mexico, I’d pay attention to the trees and shrubs and flowers.
Our small gardens are in full bloom. And everyday I pass the blooms, I am cheered by their presence and bright color. I’m not good at remembering the names of things, so sometimes we will stick the plastic marker with the name in the garden in the proximity of the flowers we’ve planted. That’s a tip that’s really helped me!
I’ve also been photographing our flowers and now you’ve inspired me to do more of that in the next few days. By the time I get back from visiting family some of the blooms I see now will be gone. Everything cycles. I love this post!
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Sometimes I think that we city-dwellers appreciate nature _more_ when we get to see it… the shock to the senses of escaping square city streets for somewhere lush and wild is so vivid! It all seems much more vivid to me than when I used to live in the country.
As for naming, I know what you mean, and I sometimes list flower names to myself… but there’s more to seeing than naming! I’m very aware of that here, as, because I’m living in a foreign country, I know very few of the species of plants and animals that I come across. But I can still appreciate their beauty!
As I definitely appreciate your beautiful photos – particularly the poppy bud!
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Yeah, I know that sometimes I take for granted the nature around me just because it’s there every day, lirone.
Re: names, I find that it’s taken me years to learn a portion of the flower names in the Rio Grande Valley. And then I get confused by all the shrubs. My head seems to be able to hold only a finite number of names.
But you’re right, there is so much more to seeing than naming. And I suppose the question I have is, for writing, do you need both? Real seeing and knowing names? My thought is, both help our writing immensely.
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QM, sorry to hear about the insomnia, although I know that’s when much of your creativity hits. Just thinking about your dentist appt this morning. Perhaps you were able to sleep in the chair. 8) (My dentist has an option where you can put on dark glasses and take gas, which has the effect of not sleeping so much as flying.)
The Russian olives are an interesting specimen. They’re not native to this area, and like other non-natives, they become invasive. Chinese elms and salt cedar are similar. So, we have oodles of Russian olives cropping up all over our land, some of which we let go, but others we cut. But what I also want to say about them is their fragrance is something I’ll always associate with NM springtime. So powerful and sweet, at times overpowering.
I love the way Russian olives grow so gnarly, and when they’re growing in the right places, not crowding out an apple tree or busting the cement of the irrigation ditch, they can be beautiful.
Looking forward to seeing more of the flowers in your garden, QM. I know you and Liz love gardening and being in touch with nature. Good tip, too, on the plastic markers. I love that about botanical gardens — how everything is labeled.
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ybonesy, just got back from the dentist chair (she was glad to see me). 8) It was only a cleaning today and I actually love to get my teeth cleaned so it felt pretty good. I might need a new crown though on an old filling that’s just too big to fill (see haiku for Dr. H. – #409). I’m planning for it.
About the gas, it’s funny, but I don’t think Dr. H. offers it anymore unless you ask for it. Used to be just what they did. I haven’t needed it in quite a while.
You know, your Russian olives sound a lot like our buckthorn. Gnarly and invasive. They completely take over. We got rid of some last year (we both learned to use a chainsaw for that!), yet it’s still taking over back behind the house.
We replanted some red dogwood on the side of the house, at least I think I have that name right. It’s beautiful, much prettier than the buckthorn. The dogwood has red stems in winter, white flowers in spring, followed by white berries in summer. We chose them because of the berries, too — the birds love them.
The birds also love the buckthorn berries but they are not good for them. And only spread the buckthorn. They are pretty nasty but do okay, as you say, on larger tracts of land, farms, where they have room to grow as windbreaks and not crowd out everything else.
I’m terrible at names and have to really work to remember the names of birds, plants, trees. I’m getting better though!
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I agree both seeing and knowing can help… but if I had to choose one or the other, definitely seeing. Part of the problem is that many readers don’t know the names, so naming doesn’t help, and also identifying a generic name can blunt our perception of the individual flower. Though there is a real satisfaction in naming…!
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ybonesy, I forgot to mention, I’m terrible at remembering people’s names, too! I am much more visual and never forget a face. When I first meet someone, I’m too busy studying their face, their eyes, the nuances of the way they carry themselves, their energy. I’m much more apt to remember all of those things than a name.
A seating chart is in order for this one! Maybe it fits in with what lirone says about her plants — if I had to choose the name of a person or the essence I’m picking up when I meet them, I’d choose the essence!
But that said, I’m a strong believer in adding names for details in writing. I think it’s a balance between too many and too little. In writing practices, I add as many details as I can because it’s practice and it helps me practice remembering details (good for the mind).
When I do a finished piece, I take a lot of them out, or slim the details down to just enough. It all works together. The right details can also ground a piece of writing, energize it.
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Yeah, lirone, that’s be my choice, too, if I had to make one. And if I’m interpreting your comment correctly, I think what you’re emphasizing is, don’t let trying to figure out the names prevent you from really seeing what’s there. If I’ve got that right, I couldn’t agree with you more.
This bit of back-and-forth, btw, reminds me of the last to chapter of Strand’s book. It’s called “A Violet.” It is only three lines long and goes:
When the master considers a violet, he forgets himself before a violet and a violet marks the Way.
When a violet marks the Way, it bears the master’s mark.
That mark is no other than a violet. A violet is the master’s mark.
A great embodiment of the importance of seeing, yet writing with specificity and detail. Perfection.
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QM, glad to hear you’re back from the dentist. Clean teeth, aren’t they the best? 8)
QM, are buckthorn like those blackberry bushes in Portland, Oregon? In NM, the blackberry bushes grow small and we love them, but there, they are like weeds.
lirone is right in that sometimes we don’t know what the names mean anyway. I’m glad you said what dogwood looks like. We have these shrub/trees that have pink or white flowers on them, I think they’re Rose of Sharon, but I used to wonder if they were dogwood. Now I know they’re not.
BTW, I’m horrible with people’s names, too. It almost becomes embarrassing, and then I have to force myself to figure out a way to remember the names. I seem much worse at this than other people.
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YES, clean teeth, the best! I used to hate going to the dentist when I was growing up. But there have been so many improvements, it’s much less painful now. And my dentist is great. I’ve been going to her since I moved here in 1984. AND she’s from Nebraska, went to school in Nebraska, and knows all about (Willa) Cather Hall. 8)
The buckthorn, I don’t think they are like the blackberry bushes in Oregon. I think I’ve seen those and they are different. I wonder if every state has some kind of invasive species of tree or shrub or insect?
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That top one is very cool yb. Isn’t it amazing what nature produces. The passion flower (passiflora) is the one that really blows me away…so intricately detailed.
I grew up with a landscape architect so I got to learn the common names of plants and some of the Latin as well. My Caucasian Dad used to teach Japanese Landscaping in the Colleges and most of his clients were Japanese!
He once had his students create an elaborately scaped garden for fun, directly after the other classes went back inside after the first break at the food coach. On the next break they came out to see a wonderful garden…and then when classes were over and they returned…it was gone.
Most families our age have those old 35mm slides in carousel holders with pictures of their families. We got to watch slide shows of trees!
and of course, there’s my name…a shrub! Ha!
H
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Well now, see Heather, I didn’t know what a passiflora looked like so I had to look it up (LINK). This flower has a whole society that looks after it, do you know (LINK)?
How cool that your dad was a landscape architect. Did you get any of those genes and/or talents? Actually, now that I think about it, you cultivate your Halloween haunted spaces and art studio the way master gardeners cultivate their flowers.
That’s so funny that you’re even named after a shrub. And I had to look that one up, too. Here it is (LINK).
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It’s been a long week and it’s only Wednesday. 🙂 So I was especially heartened to read red Ravine today. Just seeing the flowers… and then realizing that THAT is exactly where I get much of my strength from – those flowers (and nature in general) to which I connect so strongly.
In the early 1970s, I moved from a Mississippi River town in Illinois to Chicago to go to school. Plopped right in the middle of the Gold Coast, Michigan Avenue, skyscrapers, concrete. If I wanted flowers, I went to the flower boxes in front of the Marshall Fields, and I was grateful for those attempts to bring nature onto those streets. But it wasn’t quite the same and I wondered how people lived entire lives in these confines. I really was a country girl!
Anyway… the flowers and the books and the naming. I had an almost insatiable need for green and growing, and so when I moved to Wisconsin after 3 years in the city, I felt like I had to get to really know these wonderful creatures again, especially the flowers. And part of connecting was knowing their names and everything else about them.
Sooooo…. when I read your post, I was a bit startled to realize that I knew hundreds and hundreds of flowers’ names. And dismayed to read that hardly anyone could name 20. Part of the reason I post so many flower photos on my photoblog is that I want others to realize their beauty and value them.
And, no, you don’t need to know the names to enjoy them, but I find when I go to the ‘extremes’ of dragging out the ID books and finding out their names, histories, etc., I really pay closer attention. So I see that as the biggest benefit of the naming. Well, that and if I greet them by name, then they are rather like friends, aren’t they?
BTW, I am terrible with people’s names, too. In my world, you have a much better chance of being recognized if you grow out of the earth. 🙂
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[…] to topic posts WRITING TOPIC – NAMES OF FLOWERS and haiku […]
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Your comment, Bo, is heartening to me.
Well, that and if I greet them by name, then they are rather like friends, aren’t they?
Yes, I think you’re right. : )
Wow, to know hundreds and hundreds of flowers by name — that is something. I think I’ve commented about this before, but there was a woman from Tazmania, I want to say, who worked in the environment department in her nation’s government. She took a writing workshop with Natalie Goldberg at the same time that I did, and I still recall her writing about her ancestoral home being torn apart by a developer’s bulldozers. She named so many flowers and wildlife whose habitats were being destroyed — she’d come from a long line of people who valued and cultivated nature and gardens. I cried when she read, because it was so vivid for me. She knew those plants, every one of them, that her grandparents and even further back had planted. It was wrenching.
Trees. That reminds me. I want to know trees by name. I know the cottonwood and the aspen. Elms and redbud, and probably about a dozen more.
Again, thanks for making my day. I’m inspired by your connection to nature and the strength it gives you.
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Yes, I think it’s about finding a way for names to add things to our experience rather than take away.
I certainly agree that names can help us to hook into all sorts of other information – I have a copy of Cupeper’s herbal physician which gives all sorts of intriguing interpretations to the properties of flowers.
But yes, sometimes naming- or the feeling that you ought to be able to name – can get in the way of just experiencing the flower. (That’s a great quote about the master and the violet by the way!)
I suppose the best analogy is with birding’s twitchers – people whose sole purpose in watching birds is to tick off that bird on their list.
It would be great to be someone who is both expert in bird recognition and fascinated by behaviour. But as I can’t be that, I’d rather be a fascinated observer who can’t name what she’s watching than a twitcher!
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yb, I loved this post. Over the years I have been able to identify many many names of flowers. Much of that has to do thanks to my Grandmother & my Dad & their appreciation of gardening. Over the years I tend to forget some of the names, however they always come back to me.
Birds, they were also fantastic birders & I have shared that with my grandson Brant. He can probably name more birds than most adults! Trees I am not so good at, aside from the common varieties. But thanks to a book J purchased put out by the National Audubon Society, I am getting better with that. We try to pass this information onto Brant. I think that is the most important way to continue the love of nature!
Paying attention is most important & thanks for this post! D
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yb…a whole passion flower society?…and I thought I was odd…
can you imagine sitting through the excitement of that one…
everyone rushing to speak about their perfected fertilizer mixes
whew, that’s hot stuff 😉
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The photographs are stunning……DH Lawrence’s novels are full of the names of flowers and trees, I’m pretty ignorant, better on flowers. hopeless on trees. Maybe I’ll get a book, take a look.
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Thanks, Jo. I wish I would have thought to look up a DH Lawrence novel on Wed, when I was preparing this post. I was trying to remember authors who write using the names of flowers. I thought of Edward Abbey, who writes about nature in general, and I did find some great passages where he vividly described scenery, but alas, no flowers.
Hey, Heather, I think there are societies for many different flowers. Just think of the orchid. Remember the book The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean (LINK)? It was made into a movie. Such a great book. Anyhow, I once worked with an orchid aficionado, and I was struck by how great his passion was for orchids. He used to bring them in to show us. They are fragile flowers, at least growing them in areas not tropical, I think.
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lirone, interesting about the “twitchers.” Good word for them. It reminds me of Type A folks who want to bag all the highest peaks of the world.
Birds is another good one, though, in terms of knowing what their names are. I know very few, even the small bird that has its nest on my front porch. Jim and I always go out there and say, What kind of bird is that? For Mother’s Day year before last they got me a Sibley’s bird book, which is great. I have learned many new birds since then, and now I realize I should look up the little bird that has her nest in my porch.
I find identifying birds is hard, though, much harder than flowers. I think there must be an art to really capturing the patterns on the wings, the shape of the beak and head, and the tail feathers. And the whole size of the bird really matters. I think I’ve misidentified quite a few because I just leaped to the picture without really reading all the detail. Many birds look alike on paper when you don’t know the size.
diddy, cool that you’re teaching Brant all this early on. I bet it’s like any other language. The earlier you learn it, the more facile you become with it throughout your life.
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I read her comment, and there’s no direct mention, so I’ve gotta say when I saw this, I thought immediately of Bo and her amazing wild-flower posts. She’s been identifying flowers for her readers gradually over the spring and I just love the fact that she makes that effort. Also am sometimes amazed by the whimsical names, like ‘jack-in-the-pulpits’ and ‘showy goat’s beard’. I don’t have a good memory for detail, but now I’ll always remember what a flaxseed flower looks like.
http://gardengrow.wordpress.com/2008/06/26/fields-of-flax/
http://gardengrow.wordpress.com/2008/05/14/wildflowers-out-and-about/
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(last link… this is so intricate… the Soprano Vanilla Spoon)
http://gardengrow.wordpress.com/2008/06/10/soprano-vanilla-spoon/
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Oh these are great. Thanks, amuirin. I laughed at the names you mentioned. Showy goat’s beard. I mean, not just a plain goat’s beard, but a showy one. Ha!
And then the Soprano Vanilla Spoon. Notice how those little petals look exactly like spoons. But where did the Soprano Vanilla come from? I just love wondering about such things, really.
Yes, Bo is a great teacher of flowers and flower names and history of flowers. I just today was admiring her photos of Queen Anne’s lace and thistles. Thistles are incredible. Some people consider them to be weeds, you know.
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Remember the book The Orchid Thief by Susan Orlean (LINK)? It was made into a movie. Such a great book. Anyhow, I once worked with an orchid aficionado, and I was struck by how great his passion was for orchids. He used to bring them in to show us. They are fragile flowers, at least growing them in areas not tropical, I think.
ybonesy, that comment reminds me of something Anne Lamott said on a tape I listened to earlier this year — how when you are writing a book, you can go to the experts who have a passion for that subject and pull details from them for your writing.
Like if you are writing about a graveyard, go talk to a gravedigger. If you are writing a mystery, consult with a detective or someone who has been through the a similar experience. If you are writing about flowers, well, I guess we could go talk to Bo! I can’t believe how many names of flowers she knows!
Just a little writing tidbit I remembered about details. People love to talk about their work and what they have passion about!
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amuirin, I’m so glad you added those links to Bo’s photographs. I had seen the fields of flax photo on her Flickr account. But I had not seen the Soprano Vanilla Spoon. What an amazing photograph!
I had not thought of it before, how whimsical the names of flowers are. Sometimes they are named for exactly how they might feel or look, the shape, texture, color, or the association to an object in the human world or a human eye. I like thinking about that. It’s kind of fun. More musings for the Writing Practice on this Topic.
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Bo, I love this — In my world, you have a much better chance of being recognized if you grow out of the earth. 8)
I’ve been wanting to come back and comment on your comment (#13). I really appreciated reading it yesterday. I gain so much strength and grounding from nature, too. Even the little patch of yard we have where we have oaks, and ash, and willow, and dogwood, and a few small flower gardens.
I can totally understand wanting to move from the inner city back into a more natural environment. I lived in Northeast Minneapolis for over 20 years before I moved more to the outer rings. And even though I’m still close to the city, there is a huge difference in the noise levels and peacefulness I experience.
I really appreciated your comment. And am so glad you found a moment of reprieve in ybonesy’s beautiful flowers!
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What a beautifully impactful post – both visually and in verse, yBonesy 🙂 There is so much truth here.
Forgive me if I’m repeating a thought someone else has already shared, because I haven’t read all of the comments.
Whether or not we know the name of one flower or 100, ten birds or 10000, what I find most powerful is the energy exchange that happens between my body (and soul) and the Earth’s 🙂 The Earth and Her inhabitants – flora and fauna alike – are filled with a pure sweet lifeforce. When I don’t spend enough time connected with that lifeforce, my own ‘light’ seems to dim a little.
I’ve often thought that the best way to learn about Life, The Universe, God and Everything was to grow something. Even just a half a potato, stuck with toothpicks, in a paper cup (remember doing that? LOL)
Hugs of gratitude to all here at the Red Ravine!
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Beautifully written, Grace. And I totally remember those little potatoes with the toothpicks stuck in them to keep them afloat in the jar. Potatoes — now there’s a food with many different names and a long, long cultural history. There was the potato famine. And I read that the English word potato comes from Spanish patata, the name used in Spain. I used to be very fond of Mr. Potato Head. If I remember correctly, we used to poke the face pieces into real potatos. The fun never ended. 8)
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Yes, Grace, nicely said. I also remember the half a potato with toothpicks propped up on a paper cup. Or the avocado pit with toothpicks. My sisters and I grew those with almost every avocado pit our family generated. We had lots of avocado vine in the house in those days.
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ybonesy, I checked out the cactus today and there are two yellow blooms about to open. Liz phoned me after she drove out of the driveway to tell me they were opening. We get excited about these things! The cactus blooms only seem to last a few days. I’m paying attention. I’ll keep you posted!
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[…] She’d look gorgeous with one. -Based on a Writing Practice done for the topic post WRITING TOPIC – NAMES OF FLOWERS. -Related to posts PRACTICE – Sunflower and More Sunflowers. Possibly related posts: (automatically […]
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I worked in the garden yesterday (the weather was perfect in Minneapolis over the weekend — low humidity, sunny, windy, just beautiful) and thought a lot about this post. I looked at the little name tags when I was weeding. I turned the corner of the hill garden to see that yet another cactus bloom had opened into a beautiful yellow blossom that looked much like a rose. We got so much pleasure out of that. Liz took some absolutely stunning photographs of it. I hope to post a few of them sometime over the week.
I was also reminded of my parents, and how much they always knew about the plants, bushes, trees, and shrubs around them. I wrote about it when I was in Georgia last year (Geo) Labyrinth Finder (LINK), how knowledgeable they are about what is connected to the Earth. I’m so grateful for that.
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Glad you posted the link to your post from last year, QM. I’d forgotten about that post. It was fun to read — I liked the part where both your mom and stepdad said the name of the bush at the same time — “Ham and Eggs.” Was that it? What a funny name, eh?
I also liked reading the comments. I had forgotten that I was going to think about putting a labyrinth on our land. Hmmmm. I’ve not made a whit of progress toward that.
Can’t wait to see Liz’s photos of the cactus blooms. I’m always struck by how flimsy and papery the blooms are, like the thinnest of silks, and how rugged the cactus plant is. We had two huge cactus plants at our old place. They bloomed magenta. I miss them.
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ybonesy, Yes, the lantana I think was the one they called Ham and Eggs. That was so much fun, driving around with them. All those memories. Some hard, but most good. The flowers and plants in the South are like nowhere else I’ve ever seen them. The growing season is so long there. And that tropical weather!
The cactus here is low to the ground. You wouldn’t think it would grow in Minnesota. But there is one cactus that can weather the cold – prickly pear. It was pretty small when I moved in here. But it loves that we’ve cultivated a garden around it and now it’s much happier. It gets bigger and blooms brighter each year!
I had forgotten, too, that you were going to put a labyrinth on your land at the old place. Would you still consider that on your new land? It would be fun to plan it all out — what kind of labyrinth, the shape, the size. Would Jim be into something like that? Or would that be a ybonesy project? Fun to think about.
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You know, we have so much going on with what’s here now. I know Jim wants to cultivate a portion for farming, which he’ll have to begin preparing this fall. So, while I’d still love to consider it, and while he might join me in getting enthusiastic about it, we really couldn’t go there until we get these other big projects well underway.
Hey, I wouldn’t have thought the prickly pear would grow in the cold of MN. Of course, they endure the freezes in the desert mountains, but those are not nearly *as* cold nor as long. The prickly pear we grew in our old place was not close to the ground. The plants we had were decades old and taller than me, if you can imagine.
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That reminds me — whenever I go to coastal California, I see plants that grow outside, humongous, that we grow indoors in pots. I’m always tickled to see what I think of as indoor plants growing outside. It’s almost like they’re mutants, or at least that’s how they seem to me. To Californians, though, those big plants are perhaps ordinary.
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Yeah, I know what you mean. I think we all do cultivate indoor plants that grow huge outdoors in other places. Our longing for variety, I guess. And to bring other parts of the country into our own living spaces.
You know, I saw a photograph of a prickly pear that was HUGE and I couldn’t believe it. I bet it’s like the ones you see there — really old plants that are more native to the area. I’d like to see one that large in person.
Liz started this one as a small little bud I think. So it’s really young and small and flat to the ground. But it does get larger every year. I read that this particular prickly pear is one that is hearty enough for the East and North. I guess there are tons of different kinds!
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This is the first time I’ve come to your blog, I love the concept of having writing and pictures. I particularly love the piture of the poppy bud.
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Laura, so glad you found us. And thank you. The poppies seem to be blooming everywhere. When we were out gardening last weekend, my neighbor asked if we wanted some poppy seeds. She’s got some big ones in her front yard, dark burgundy. She said her grandfather was a gardener for a wealthy family back some time ago. And these were the seeds he had cultivated from that time; she called them heirloom seeds. Maybe next year we’ll have a few poppies on the side of the house.
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[…] “Flower-watching” in the mountains (although we didn’t have guide nor guidebook to tell us the names of the flowers). […]
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[…] to posts: WRITING TOPIC – NAMES OF FLOWERS, PRACTICE – Summer – 20min, haiku […]
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[…] -related to posts: haiku (one-a-day), WRITING TOPIC – NAMES OF FLOWERS […]
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[…] -related to posts haiku (one-a-day) and WRITING TOPIC – NAMES OF FLOWERS […]
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[…] evening primrose, Icelandic poppies, a bleeding heart bush. Near the brilliant violet of a plant whose name I’ve forgotten, I seed small marigolds. I can just imagine the bright orange-yellow against the purple in summer. […]
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[…] -related to post: WRITING TOPIC — NAMES OF FLOWERS […]
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[…] continued job hunting, gardening and yard work with Liz, meetings with ybonesy around red Ravine, I’m researching and doing the ground work […]
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[…] you are like me, you constantly have questions about plants and gardening solutions. Do you know the names of your flowers? Maybe you have trouble with groundhogs or slugs, or wonder about inside seed starting, passion […]
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excellent collection…..
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[…] to posts: The Ant & The Peony, WRITING TOPIC — NAMES OF FLOWERS, Secrets of the Passion […]
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