Posts Tagged gardening
Andrea’s garden was by no means remarkable. In fact, it fell short of the standards when compared to the gardens cultivated by most of her neighbors. Gardening was the in-thing for the households of Lilac Lane. That there was a competition between the some of the families regarding who accomplished the most impressive botanical feat each spring was no secret. Some neighborhoods competed over the best Christmas decorations, some regarding the greenest grass on their lawns, some challenged each other over throwing the best BBQ shindigs; the people of Lilac Lane eyeballed each other over their gardens. Read the rest of this entry »
Via: Daily Prompt – Scent
No, I’m not talking about the freesia but that’s the closest I have reached in my search for that elusive yellow flower.
During my father’s first posting overseas, there was a gargantuan tree in the parking lot of the building where we lived. It stood in the middle of a small artificial island, which was usually circled by a necklace of cars belonging to our building residents. It’s many boughs and twigs were spread out so far wide in every direction that it could provide shade to the entire island as well as the surrounding cars. This tree would never be out of bloom and I often gazed at it from our balcony, wondering how it stayed up, for its trunk did not look wide enough to bear the weight of its many branches, the needle-like leaves, and stalks full of blossoms. It was only when I was older that I reflected that it must’ve been the roots, buried deep and perhaps just as wide.
There would be flowers strewn all over the island grass and on top of the car hoods every morning when I went out to wait for the school bus. The flowers didn’t last long in the heat once they fell and were mostly decayed from the early morning dew by the time I reached them. Still, a few fresh blossoms would remain for me to take joy in. They were like tiny yellow megaphones, their petals tightly fanning out in whorls, the sepals funneling into narrow stems. I would take great care when wrapping the flowers in tissue to take with me to school. And when the opportunity arose, I would sneak them out and breathe in their scent.
I can still remember the scent. It was so light that you couldn’t catch it even standing under the tree. But take one bloom in the palm of your hand, just the one, hold it to your nose and your lungs would fill with its sweet airy fragrance. Yet, I wouldn’t quite call the scent sweet. I wouldn’t know what I’d call them. Because when my father was relocated for his next project and we moved to our next country of residence, I never saw them again.
But I still think of them. I still miss them.
The flowers I’m referring to do indeed look quite similar to freesias and multiple blossoms grow from each stalk surrounded by needle-sharp leaves. The tree in the image above captures the shape of the flowers and the tree very accurately. If anyone is able to shed some light to the name, I will welcome it.