Recently I have had this recurring question what is my favorite flower. It has given me pause for thought. Coincidentally, I came across this quote “A flowerless room is a soulless room.” On the bookcase in the room of where I am writing sits an Orchid that has acted as the origin of my muse on many occasions. I look for flowers in the places that I go. Flowers offer refinement, so when entering hotels, offices, and a person’s home; seeing fresh cut flowers is always a remarkable feeling. Flowers are over 125 million years old – ancient enough to be a messenger of my history. Flowers commemorate passages in our lives and over the years I have delighted in them and continue to do so. There is almost always a burst of passion, high-soul aspiration, a sought of desire when I am in the company of flowers.
The first flower that springs to mind is the Lily. When I think about lilies I recall the white lily field in bloom above my childhood home. I would giddily skip around this field during the Easter season. They would bloom proudly during the day, later in the evening it seems as if they bow their heads to the setting sun, as if they were drifting off to sleep. I have learned just recently those types of lilies are called day Lilies.
Another flower that comes to mind is the hibiscus. This flower is almost synonymous with my Primary/Grade school days. We loved seeing the various colors (red, white, yellow) in bloom. From time to time a young girl would wear one perched behind her ear almost like an enchanted fairy perhaps. Doing so was a self-expression of delicate beauty. Thinking back it was not only the school girls. I recall an older lady by the name of Ms. Dorothy she was tall, graceful and solid built, almost every time we saw her she had a hibiscus tucked in her hair – like a sartorial elegance. As well as being a natural draw for humming birds, the hibiscus was often the subject of our Art Class. My fond recollection in High/Middle School is how we had to learn to draw and paint the hibiscus. Also a part of our theory was to know the anatomy of the hibiscus. Back then we drew the hibiscus with such ease; the end result would make us feel like Claude Monet or even Vincent Van Gogh. Reminiscent of those days is a detailed Hibiscus painting of one of our very own artist hung in my daughter’s room.
My mind often reflects on roses. There are the roses every young lady wishes her admirer, lover, husband would send. Roses imply passion, extravagance, romantic love, virtue or even chastity. I recall when I got married I wanted my bouquet made of a dozen fresh white roses. My maid of honor still reminiscences that it was the heaviest bouquet she ever held. In church we had a back and forth exchange of the bouquet at the altar because it was just that heavy.
Then there are tulips! When I think of Tulips I think back to the time when I was in University in England and how they will bloom in the wild – fields, parks and gardens. I would always go out and pick one and put it in the window. To me it suggested, say a declaration of love in living and studying there. It comes as no surprised that tulips were worth more than pieces of property at one time several hundred years ago in the 17th century. This time period is referred to as the ‘windhandel.’
There is the traditional flower Jasmine. In the evening particular approaching Christmas the scent would fill the air. It was like a treat just to sit outside in the evening and smell it as I watch its full bloom in the night. My grandmother cherished her Jasmine tree. We were expected to trim and prune the garden but we dare not touch her Jasmine.
Roused by a fresh flush of patriotism, fueled partly by nostalgia I think of the tropical, ornamental, and distinctive bright plumage of our (Montserrat’s) national flower the Heliconia and fittingly I smile. There is something magical about flowers it creates a sense of occasion. A lady is forever charmed with such a gesture.
Thinking back, the love of flowers is not exclusive to femininity. While I was working in England I knew that one of my favorite male senior manager loved flowers just as much. So I decided my parting gift to him was a surprise bouquet of exotic flowers. I can still see the look on his face when I presented them to him. He left the office that afternoon all chuffed, saying how he cannot wait to take them home; his commute was about a two hour drive (and no he was not gay).
I have been inspired by many types of flowers over the years, my taste for flowers has evolved whether as a symbolic gesture, for its fragrance, the colors, and the attractiveness, to me there is an intimate language. I do not have a favorite flower but it is beginning to seem ridiculous not to have one.
Do you have a favorite flower?
Image taken by Saas Fee, perle-der-alpen.ch
Love After Love
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The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,
and say, sit here.
Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine.
Give bread.
Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you
all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,
the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit.
Feast on your life
.
Poem Written by Derek Walcott
Some may say this is cynical piece for Valentines Day; I call it a masterpiece. Be positive appreciate the person you are simultaneously celebrate others in your life.
Honey suckle drips
On billowing yellow-iris-print
Yellow Begonia’s blossom
In the gold dust of midday’s splendor
-
Poem written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Helen Sweeting
Every week for an hour I sit in an area of where a thin, almost like a dead stick looking tree grows. Occasionally I take a glance at a tall woody tree in the same area. I am told that there is a beautiful flower that only blooms at night on the tree. The name is night-blooming cereus, Queen of the night or Reina de la noche. They bloom just one or two nights a year. The photo provides such beautiful view of this flower that seeing it is a literal high that delights.
The flower can be comparable to the monotony of working hard or possibly the pursuit of academia there is so much going on before the final bloom of a job well done or a graduation day. When we see the results of a long process it gives such a high and provides sustenance. The bloom of our lives may perhaps be a relationship with our family and friends especially when they are no longer with us – we realize the beauty that they created.
High Bloom
On single stem
Such tricky balance
An opening point
The pulse of the night
Blend of the shift
Bursting onto the world
Reserved like Jane Austen’s Bright Star
The bloom mutes
Graced by the truer romantic
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Photographed by Susan Koster
For years they knew nothing of each other
Through the familiar gates
Provokingly they streamed in
They collected their thoughts
Images seared into the conscience
Locked in a reflection
A wave to the past
The border of time collapsed
A strap of sharing
Timeless landscape of events sheltered
The touches of Life
Nurtured spots under shaded trees
Flanked by passions and noble living
Old friendships rekindled
New friendships made
non sibi, Not for self
Echoed from the Elm Tree
-
Poem Written by Brenda L. McCartney
Image taken from Coffee and Vanilla
For the past week my taste buds have been enticed and tortured by two magazines that I have read. I found this to be unfair since my supply of Creole cocoa rolls/stick in my cupboard has been depleted. “Cocoa sticks are pure unsweetened cocoa, made from cocoa beans that are roasted, crushed and hand rolled.” These magazines feature the rejuvenation of Caribbean cocoa industry on Cocoa estates in the Caribbean namely Tobago, Grenada and St. Lucia. Other cocoa producing places in the region are The Dominican Republic, Venezuela and Dominica. It brings me back fondly to my childhood as my grandmother had an endless supply of what we called Dominican Creole Cocoa. She would grate the stick of cocoa into a pot of hot water; add a tin of evaporated milk, a pinch of salt and sugar to make a highly fragrant, mouth watering morning or evening cups of hot chocolate milk. I was a surprised that Dominica was not mentioned in the magazines along with these Caribbean Islands since we depended on the boat to come from Dominica with our supply of cocoa sticks. Hopefully, on my next visit to St. Lucia I will lodge at Hotel Chocolat (a proposed boutique Eco-Lodge) where I can get my “bean –to-bar experience, spa treatments with cocoa nib exfoliation, cocoa butter moisturizing massages and enjoy cocoa tea and cocoa/chocolate deserts while overlooking the lush forested hills of St. Lucia.”
Recipe for Dominican Creole Cocoa Tea by Brenda L. McCartney
Dominican Creole Cocoa Tea
INGREDIENTS
- 4 Cups of water
- 1 large can of Evaporated milk (377g)
- Pinch of salt to taste
- 1 bay leaf
- 4 TBL Grated cocoa
- 3TBL of Sugar
PREPARATION
Bring the water to boil. Put the cocoa in the boiling water until cocoa dissolves. Add milk and salt, sugar and bay leaf. Stir well and bring to a boil. Remove the pot from the heat.
*The cocoa sticks that came from Dominica seems to contain a hints of cinnamon and nutmeg
Photographed by Alex Shalman
Okay, I was in the kitchen frying some plantains and was too lazy to use the fork to turn them over, so I used the knife in my hand. My grandmother’s voice echoed in my ear as my husband peeped over my shoulder and said you will make the knife dull. My reply was no I should not use the knife in a hot pan because mama said doing that would giving me ‘cutting in my stomach.’ He said that he is sure that is not the reason why she didn’t want me to use the knife for cooking. He said maybe she just wanted you to use a spoon and that was the reason she gave you. Who can tell if that was her real reason or who can tell how far back generationally this ‘cutting in your belly’ tradition goes back? When you really think of it I was dependent upon and trusted my grandmother and her advice was written in stone. I did not think what she said was invalid or even question the concept. I adapted anything and everything from her. This story is like that ham story where people for years have been cutting off the ends of the ham because of tradition or habit, but the real reason was that originally both ends of the ham were cut to fit in a small pan. As my friend Susan puts it so eloquently “how rich our lives become as we learn each day, from our assumptions, lack of knowledge, oversights, and even mistakes.”
Illustration from istockphoto.com
“GRAY MATTER left-Neurons make new connections during learning. Right- no connections”
Have you looked into your library recently and found that you can not recall most of the books you have read? Well, research shows that the neural connections which are responsible for receiving and processing information weaken when not in use. According to Dr. Taylor a professor at St. Mary’s College of California “we need to know stuff, but we need to move beyond that and challenge our perception of the world. If you always hang around with those you agree with that you already know, you are not going to wrestle with your established brain connections.” Reading is great way to focus your thoughts and exercise your brain. It may take a lot of discipline to read consistently but the rewards are never-ending.
Image taken from cruisetalk.net
Each week as I drive along West Bay Street in the morning I am always in time to observe the Disney Cruise Line make a one hundred and eighty degree turn in the waters to sail out of Port Nassau. This always inspires certain awe. This morning again, I witness that same turn as this time it reversed into Port Nassau. I can not explain why it evokes such a feeling. My husband tells me that anything that large when it moves is always a sight to behold. Maybe in my subconscious it is a metaphor for when someone makes a turn or a turn around in life? A turn around can be one of the most exhilarating and enriching feelings in life. For some, that turn can be the sign of better things to come.
Ever day opens and closes like a flower – John Muir
Photographed by Sesame Ellis
Mother’s day is bitter sweet for some as there is a melancholy because of the loss of her. It is an overwhelming experience for some because our children did not get to cherish her as a grandmother. What we owe to them is incalculable.
Like diamonds on sunlit oceans
They gave themselves
Contemplative wisdom
Boundaries of rigidity
Infinite in circumstances
-
Uncircumscribable richness
Details manifest in reflections
Intuitive mystery understood
Expression of carefree joy
-
Her eyes the gravitas of life
Melting of emotions
With the iron force of her will
She defines provision and selflessness
-
An armor on her principles
Her vision stood only in black and white
Now -lasting impressions colored
Her spirit, her attitude inculcated
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Poem written by Brenda L. McCartney
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