Friday Five: Figurative Flowers

5 Emblematic Blooms:

Remembrance poppies at the Australian War Memorial

1. Poppy – The symbol of sleep, peace and death. Sleep because of the opium extracted from them and death because of their blood-red colour. Memorable images include the magical poppy field in L. Frank Baum’s The Wonderful Wizard of Oz in which Dorothy are chums are almost lulled to eternal sleep, and the blood red blooms on Flanders’ fields that recall more than a million sacrifices. Lest we forget.
2. Red Rose – UK Labour Party; House of Lancaster; England Rugby; socialism; romantic love – combined with the white rose of York to become the Tudor Rose and national flower of England. With its combination of powerful scent, dramatic beauty and viscous thorns, it is beloved of playwrights and poets form Shakespeare and Robert Burns to Gertrude Stein and Poison.
3. Daffodil – Wales and the Cancer Society. As daffodils are part of the narcissus family, they also represent vanity. Appearing at spring in the Northern hemisphere, the yellow daffodil is associated with new beginnings and particularly Easter (the German word for daffodil is ‘Osterglocke’, meaning Easter bell). Thanks to William Wordsworth’s (in)famous poem, it also represents The Lake District for many.
4. Sunflower – Honesty; Happiness; Faith; Adoration; Vegan Society; Cancer Support – individually they are remarkable and together they are glorious. From the fields of gold the cyclists ride past in the Tour de France to Van Gogh’s crazy brilliant blooms or Ai Weiwei’s Tate/Unliever-commissioned sculpture of ten tonnes of porcelain seed husks, they have stunning visual impact. It was thought that the sunflower (girasol) turns its head to follow the sun until sixteenth-century romance-busting botanist John Gerard pointed out this was only true of the immature buds but the adult plants grew out of it. Despite that, this is still a beautiful flower quote from the film Calendar Girls:

   "The flowers of Yorkshire are like the women of Yorkshire. Every stage of their growth has its own beauty, but the last phase is always the most glorious. Then very quickly they all go to seed. Which makes it ironic my favourite flower isn't even indigenous to the British Isles, let alone Yorkshire. I don't think there's anything on this planet that more trumpets life that the sunflower. For me that's because of the reason behind its name. Not because it looks like the sun but because it follows the sun. During the course of the day, the head tracks the journey of the sun across the sky. A satellite dish for sunshine. Wherever light is, no matter how weak, these flowers will find it. And that's such an admirable thing. And such a lesson in life."

5. Forget-me-Not – True love; Faithfulness; Remembrance; Freemasonry; Alzheimer’s Association – Henry IV adopted the flower as a symbol of his exile in 1398. It grows madly in English spring gardens and woodlands, particularly by riverbanks as it prefers moist habitats and can tolerate partial sun and shade. I love the delicate little blooms and the subtle fragrance which develops in the evenings although they have little scent during the day, and I incorporated it into my bridal bouquet.

My newest favourite thing: spring flowers

I was filing some magazines yesterday, and putting them in chronological order – yes, I know… Anyway, they were dated seasonally, which threw me a bit because they were New Zealand magazines.

For me the year begins in spring (new beginnings and all that) and progresses through summer and autumn to finish with winter. Not so here. I presume it goes autumn; winter; spring; summer – which still feels odd. Things like this, after living here for 13 years remind me that I’m living abroad and am not home.

But whatever month of year in which they appear, I do love spring flowers. They promise fresh hope and renewal. The blossom on the trees suggests ripe fruit with connotations of blushing brides and birds and bees.

Spring, after all is the season of love. As Lord Alfred Tennyson wrote, ‘In the spring a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.’ We got married in April (in the Northern Hemisphere) and my bouquet was a riot of spring blooms.

Every year my mum sends photos of what she calls her ‘scruffy garden’. Complete with hyacinths and forsythia they are quite gorgeous, and she never neglects to write and tell me when the crocuses are out. It’s some sort of earthly connection that we share, and although I hate gardening, I love the results.

I once whiled away a very pleasant afternoon sitting outside in the spring sunshine with my feet up on a cushion, reading a book and drinking gin and tonic. At work the next day a friend told me she had spent the day in the garden – I think she meant something entirely more strenuous and less relaxing. I’ll stick to my version.

Whereas some flowers symbolise passion, beauty, desire, nobility, glory, pride and devotion, spring flowers seem to represent more subtle emotions. According to an internet site devoted to the meaning of flowers, a few examples are:

• snowdrops – hope
• daisies – innocence, loyalty, purity
• hyacinth – loveliness
• bluebell – constancy
• crocus – happiness
• daffodil – respect
• forsythia – expectation, anticipation
• iris – wisdom, faith, hope

I have been roaming the streets taking photos of these delicate flowers and blossoms. Their gentle nature is exquisitely appealing. 'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May' indeed, even if it is September over here. The shy blooms bring out a feeling of tenderness and make me smile. And they distract me from the spring cleaning I really should be doing.

Daffodil Day

Today is daffodil day. I don’t know if that is an official term but today volunteers from the Cancer Society of New Zealand are out and about on the streets collecting money for research into this most pernicious disease.

The website assures us that 88% of money collected “goes towards vital scientific research into the causes and treatments for all types of cancer, as well as providing a wide range of support services, information, health promotion and education programmes to reduce cancer risk, awareness campaigns and practical support for people affected by cancer.”

The daffodil with its spring connotations and cheerful yellow bloom is the symbol of the Cancer Society and when you donate money you are offered a plastic one to pin to your clothes or a sticker.

The streets of Wellington are grim and grey today but there are bright yellow spots of hope tied to lampposts and blossoming on sombre civil service suits. The ladies I spoke to were eating muffins that had been donated to them by a café across the road. Apparently cancer affects one in three New Zealanders. We cannot be unmoved.

If you can’t find a ‘daffodil seller’ – and they’re pretty easy to spot – you can also donate through the Cancer Society of New Zealand website. I urge you to wear your daffodil with pride and help to battle this disease, which has such devastating consequences.