SPRING TRINKETS

Spring finally came around and she emerged from a place of comfort and calm. Her favourite treasures lay before her. She saw a table full of curiosities that she could hold in her palm, taking in the detail of each one. Vessels with soft clay moulded like frilly petals and orbs which could home miniature worlds. She imagined curled rose petals held within, surrounded by a swirling nectar. She'd delicately shake the sphere like a snow globe, watching the petals gently fall. A moment for reflection and then again, to relish in it once more. 

Candy pink gerberas shot up, up, up to lean and relax. Poised in the air with ease. She traced her fingers along the petal edges. No time for 'loves me, loves me not' games here. She observed how the petal layers descended into a close-knit ring near the centre. The continuous hoop mirrored her undulating thoughts. Maybe she could put her thoughts in one of these vessels, to retrieve them later as necessary. Would she go back to some of them? Where they conducive in allowing her to build the dreams she had for herself? 

Maybe some of those thoughts were better off withering into crinkled leaves, disintegrating into finite dust. She could take off the stopper from the bottle, tip it into her hand and gently blow away the crumbling remnants. She didn't want to dwell. She knew this was the season of rebirth and it was time to plant some more seeds. For fresh shoots to push on through. She thought about how in the dark of winter, she'd questioned whether the bare branches would ever burst into blossom buds again. Deep down, she knew they would. 

A miniature tree was perched at an edge, poised with zen. She appreciated being able to fit it in her hand, channelling it's energy. Yet. she also considered what it would be like if the tree multiplied in scale. She would find it the size of a grand oak, with wiry branches curving to greet her with crystalline fruits. Taking a bite from the mango-shaped matter would be a treat and she'd sit beneath the translucent canopy until dusk settled in. A chance to catch whispers from the sun; feeling replenished from the natural world in every way.

Anemones of the soil kind. She was just as fond of the sea kind. She imagined a fresh sheet of paper, cut into miniature fan-shaped petals. A tapered paintbrush was dipped in water and paint, to gently lay strokes. The rosy hue dispersed, gently crinkling the paper as it was absorbed. She delved into her bead trove to find a speckled pin with anther-like dots emerging all around. It was perfect for holding the crêpe petals together. She dreamt of blue skies, laying on a warm blanket put out by nature - grass or sand? Grass, on this occasion.

She reveled in how holding each objet d'art conjured a new story. Marble pots were inlaid with lapis lazuli and mother of pearl petals. She thought about hiding fragrant buds within, so that she'd catch an unexpected fragrance spark, months down the line. It would bring back memories of this time. A frenetic bunch of grass zinged away with a natural energy. Fronds sparked into life, with green shoots snapping their spindly fingers here and there. Bluebells arched their stems around, to see what else Spring brought to the table.  

Vibrant magenta shells were bursts of colour within the visual layers. She felt like she could call on the callas. They listened when she spoke. Their conch-like curves swayed over to be a carefree ear. Sometimes it was pleasantries and on other occasions, they discussed how she could also arch her petals in the way she wanted. The fleurs had a natural way of doing so. Just a little bit of guidance, for when she spent too long cooped up in the same position. It was time to lean in towards the sun. Stretch. Bend. Welcome in that newness. 

What was it about flowers? Maybe it was their delicacy and beauty. Their ephemeral nature felt like a reminder to be present. Enjoying life while she could. The calmer colour palette reflected the season of buds. She was in the right place. The dusty lilac hues of the echeveria harmonized with dulcet bluebell tones. Purple pansies sat comfortably, emerging from the base of the table. She gazed at Spring in it's entirety, especially as she'd waited so long for it. When it finally came, it was everything she expected it to be... and then some. 

​