Beautiful: White Flowers

White Flowers

White Flowers

Flowers. I love flowers. I’m sure I’ve told you this before, but I think it bears repeating. What’s so great about flowers? Everything.

First, there’s the sheer beauty of the things. They come in a range of pretty much every color you can imagine, and in fact, most cultivated flowers, your tulips and roses and carnations and hydrangeas and orchids and gerbera and…are expressions of human imagination. Wild flowers are selected out and bred, selected and bred, and selected and bred until they fit the vision of the breeder. It’s pretty amazing the flowers that exist. I should do a post about my favorite tulip, Belle Epoque, which looks like sepia-toned paper, and feels like la belle epoque. In addition to their colors, there’s the delicacy and intricacy of the petals, and it doesn’t matter whether you call them weeds, wildflowers, fruit flowers, or a bouquet of roses, all flowers can make you stop and stare.

Then, there’s the smell. Almost always, they smell pleasant, but sometimes they smell terrible. In Europe, there’s a tree that produces a flower that smells like dog poop in the rain. I hate that tree. But there are also orange blossoms, jasmine, honeysuckle, mulberry, and so many other aromas that are cloyingly sweet, deliciously spicy, deeply musky. Some of them make me hungry, some make me horny, some make me pensive.

Finally, as I work on closeup photos of flowers, there are always surprises. On this one, there’s an aphid, or something along those lines, that looks like one of the petals holding the bud.

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