It may be the sudden shift in temperature- two rare life supporting days hitting near 50 degrees which caused my latest turn towards Spring flowers. I imagine Croci pushing up through the muddy, still icy mix and Daffodils unfurling their long dainty necks to announce the change in season. This is early March in New England with an average temperature of… I don’t know mid twenties today.
I try to remember that winter will pass and with it will come the beauty of those daring flowers who make their ascension toward sun. Here in New Hampshire, the visible growth strikes sometime in April. Even still, the snow might fall on fragile flowers. But those daffodils– the dainty, often times dancing ladies with their long fanning arms will eventually show through the soil. It’s Nature’s routine and I enjoy each time she rolls out the change.
I often joke about glassblowing being a winter sport. Inside the studio we have torches burning, a glory hole pushing out thousands of degrees and the hope for Spring burning bright. For me, sculpting petals, leaves and flowers is a way to sing praise– an act of remembrance for color and growth which seems to lack from this white, wintery mix. In my latest bouquet, I recognize bold, deep yellow Daffodils and Buddleia or Butterfly Bush, offset with Pink Tea Roses, resting on top of green and white striated leaves. i entitle the piece, “Angels Breath” perhaps that heavenly scent calls the butterflies and other pollinators back to their folds?