Words from Annie Monahan, Photos from Marjory Wunsch , photos from Lee family album
Text and photos by Renee Kasinsky and Tina Gram; Text by Harold Snedcof, photo by Marjory Wunsch; text by Linda Harris, photo from Lee/Levy family album
Photos and texts by Ellen Kramer, Barbara Nachmias-Kedesdy, Barbara Hubschman, Sandy Millikin, Ethan Gould
Thanks to a generous gift subscription from my sister, a tightly packed box full of fantastic blooms is delivered monthly to my door. Finding enough places to put them all can be a challenge, so I strive to send some off to other welcoming homes…..A future post may focus more on where the blooms have come from, but this one looks at where they went.
Earlier in January, when I asked friends for photos of indoor plants, Sandra Millikin sent three from her home in England. All were roses in vases, each bouquet distinct and inviting. Her titles and evocative captions added context. The words and images suggested significant stories behind the roses’ arrivals and arrangements.
“For ( Ekua) Holmes, the sunflowers represent a radiance that “sustains us even when things are not how we want them to go.”
Some ways I’ve share roses of Sharon in recent years:
• dig up and transplant selected saplings that grow up below the original bush…
• sweep and scrape loose shriveled remains fallen on the sidewalk .
• take photos of successive stages of a blossom…
• take short videos of blossoms lifting/shifting in warm winds …
• cut branches with buds and blossoms ( a source of tiny active ants) to fill a vase… .
As buds begin on branches, I recall that blossoms, leaves and fruits will reduce the chances for sky and sun to interact with the structure of bare trees. While eyes and iPhones focus on compelling colors and layers of growing green, I’ll lose sight of dramatic or intricate patterns of tree trunks, bark, limbs and branches for the next three seasons. This post presents reminders of what winter trees will offer again as autumn ends.
An old apple tree and a relatively young cherry in my yard have almost always blossomed simultaneously. These photos are from one day in May almost seven years ago when I tried to record their sudden abundance and interplay.
Bright red abundant Mandevilla* adorned the fence and walls of one home on nearby Kirkland Street throughout the summer of 2020. Not until mid July did I properly identify those vines and begin trying to document their captivating qualities over the next few months. I hope to give them more careful attention this coming spring.