Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Telling Time By Flower's Blooms

That, my dears, is a blossom from a plant known as Clitoria Mariana, also known as Atlantic Pigeonwings but I leave it up to you to decide which is the more accurately descriptive name.

As I say every year when I post a picture of this plant's bloom, when nature finds a design she likes, she is not afraid to use it over and over again.

I wonder who Mariana was. I think someone must have loved her very much. And well. I hope.

The clitoria is blooming along the paths where I walk and they make me smile every time I see them. At least, I smile on the inside. My outside countenance is no doubt decidedly unsmiling and I probably look as if I am determined to survive and not much else which is the actual truth in this heat. I spoke with Jessie this morning and she said it is almost chilly in Asheville and Jane Fishman, in Savannah says that the heat has broken there too.
Ah. Not here. Nor will it for awhile although yes, I have felt fall in the air. I have seen it in the sky and today I walked out onto the back porch to see pale lemon-yellow leaves falling from the Bradford Pears in a shower and I had not even noticed that any of them were turning and yet, there they were, dancing down in a breeze.

There is so much which I don't observe until the fact of it hits me square in the face. I think most of us are like this. We go along and we have pre-determined what we are seeing until something happens like the lavender bloom of the clitoria makes us study the side of the path more sharply. This is why it is good to travel and visit places we have never seen before. We observe so much more and then, when we do come home, we see the familiar more carefully again as well.
Well, it's a theory.

Some of us live to travel and some of us find a that a trip to the henhouse is enough on most days. Or down a path through the woods and behind the old gas station and down Lloyd Subdivision Road and back and to the post office. I am that person, today at least. I am home today, simply and purely home with the exception of that walk and it feels so good. I have pinto beans boiling and collards thawing that I picked and froze a few months ago and the laundry is going and the chickens are fed and the porch plants have been watered and the kitchen floor swept. All such little things but they make me feel as if I have some control over life, as if my life is a thing of tidiness and high fiber, order and low fat.

Which is such an illusion but one I love to allow myself some days.

I don't think that's too much to ask in this big, crazy, complicated, disorderly, chaotic world.

And how any of this ties in to the Clitoria Mariana, I have no idea, but somehow it does at least in the sense that all-is-one and all is connected and suddenly, a great boom of thunder has come from the west and the sky is clouding over and that is perfectly and wonderfully okay with me.

The hurricane lilies will be popping up their heads any day. I am looking for them, I am remembering that they are there, hidden in the ground, waiting for just the right time to make their sudden burst through the dirt and into glory.

Theirs, like the clitoria, is a small, short glory, but a certain and sure one nonetheless.


  1. I look forward to your blog. I do. You are a meaty, juicy writer. I see, hear and smell Lloyd. I walk around in your yard, looking at the chickens and sipping a martini (and I don't even like martinis but I like the ones you make).

    And I love your family too. Owen and Gibson are MY grandkids (thanks for sharing).

    So today I salute you for your generosity, your spit and your humor.

    Your friend in Seattle,


  2. Clitorias used to grow all along my fenceline but they haven't been here in years. I miss them. I wonder where they went? They are the coolest flowers with a name that fits them perfectly!

  3. Really? Clitoria? I find that wild, hilarious and sort of unbelievable in these Puritanical times. Which came first? The female anatomy or the flower?

  4. Your writing makes me look at things more closely. Thank you. xo

  5. Clitoria Mariana! I am giggling here. I feel like a 7th grader in Sex Ed. class.

  6. I love your Clitoria, but I raise you a naked man orchid:



  7. I may have to put her in a poem with my bare-naked-ladies lilies.

    Thanks for this. I am going to write something myself in blogland soon, I promise.

    Hanging on by chipped-polish-nails but hanging on nonetheless.

    I had forgotten how much a relationship gone wrong can fuck up everything. Now I remember why I resolved not to date.


  8. I'm jealous of your order today.
    Your smiling on the inside and not so much on the outside reminds me of all the times people have told me to smile more when I'm walking. Which is terribly annoying because I'm walking for myself and in a world where they don't belong. Plus, who walks around with a shit-grin on their face?

    I like how you say nature finds a pattern and uses it over and over. I like that we are all designed under the same template.

  9. Oh God, I can't be musing over mortality today! (I suppose I shouldn't have logged on to Blogger, then.)

    The clitorias makes me both giggly and wistful. Oh, sex life. I miss you.

  10. The pink naked ladies have burst into bloom here, and they smell so delicious!

  11. Beth- I don't know if I've ever had a compliment I cherished more. Thank you. So much.

    lulumarie- You know, things just disappear? All my annual volunteer marigolds? Not a one came up this year. Why?

    Elizabeth- That's the real, technical name. For sure.
    And I would guess the flower came first but who knows? You could sure create an entire myth about their forming, couldn't you?

    Lisa- That just thrills me, honey. And thanks for the FB shoutout. Truly.

    Ellen Abbott- Aren't they tidy, pretty flowers?

    Birdie- Oh. You're silly. And sweet.

    Jo- That is CRAZY SHIT THERE!

    Pamela- I am so sorry that life is just kicking you so repeatedly. I'm glad, though, that you like my little flower.

    Rachel- Who in their right mind smiles when they walk? And yes, it's nice to know we share design with flowers.

    See Kate Run- But you still have a clitoria mariana of your own, right?

    A- I don't know those! I must do a google search. Check out Jo's links.

  12. If you wrote a book and it came out today, I would be the first in line to buy it. Your writing is superb in every sense of the word. S. Jo

  13. Amaryllis belladonna is their other name.

  14. Ha! Those flowers used to grow wild in my neighborhood when I was a kid. (Probably still do.) I had NO IDEA what they were called.

    Sounds like your day was a lot like mine. It's great to get some time to recharge, isn't it?!

  15. Good morning Ms. Moon! There used to be a restaurant in town that had paintings of flowers, very vaginal and vulvular paintings. I always imagined it was quite popular for date nights.

  16. It's in the 90's here all week. Maybe a touch of cool in the morning on Sunday but fall hasn't planted a firm foot yet, although the days are definitely shorter.

  17. I loved this. Came here through a link on Twitter. You are a beautiful writer!

  18. S. Jo- You ARE sweet.

    A- And belladonna, as you know, means beautiful woman.

    Steve- Sometimes you just HAVE to have a day like that.

    Lora- These are almost embarrassing. And they grow like that!

    Syd- Yep. Same-same.

    Marty- Oh! Thank-you! And please come join our community here whenever you want.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.