s t n a l P House's
There are more succulents than any other kind of plants in my house now. Before it was roses, and lavender. We still have those, but now the main event is succulents. And grass, I guess. I wish I thought about grass more. It's such a familial structure. I wonder whether it would feel like being infinite but one or being a part of a community one in which there is no privacy. Could I stand it? To be grass, either way? Maybe it just feels like the most intense kind of love.
I can't remember for the life of me what these flowers are called. I love the colors. They make me feel alive and like summer only it's a little dustier than summer but there is jamaica. I think being these flowers would feel like dancing, maybe. Maybe it would be like being on fire, but like when you trap a candle in an upside down class and watch it eat itself up. Maybe it would feel like that last second, those moments when you hold your breath and wonder how much longer.
I think real romantic love smells like lavender all year round. Everyone loves lavender, I think. If they don't I feel sorry for them because if you don't like lavender you have to have a reason for not liking it and that reason has to be a sad one because how else could you not? Bees love lavender too, they just don't like it when you both have to share the space of loving lavender. Bees are jealous lovers, I have learned. I have the tiny pinpricks to prove it, but my clothes still smell violet thank you.
When plants are blue I wonder about them. They were so close to being what we'd expect and then they decided that wasn't good enough for them. More often than not we don't like that and we call them weeds and we find them amidst our greens and we pluck pluck them out and discard them and let them dry in big piles and those piles sometimes burn everything down. I want to make a wreath of blue plants. Then again, I want them to live.
I didn't choose many trees because that felt too personal like writing about someone that my whole family and friends knew and they knew I was writing about them and wanted to know what I thought about them while flowers are more like friends you make by yourself when you smile at someone who gets the same coffee order you did and you never know them but for that moment that smile is more than anything else in the world and it all feels enough?
I chose these plants to put together because of how different they are while still looking nice together. It's superficial but what isn't? I instinctively like the round leaf the best but when I think about it that feels Eurocentric somehow, but I can't explain why. Maybe it's because when I think of which plant looks like me it's always the spiky arid ones, like the top right, the ones who look tough and hard to chew and not very nice but sturdy and reliable.
My favorite colors are yellow and green (deep and not together most of the time) but when I see plants I see red and my heart goes boom! boom! that's how things are supposed to be! Those moments when the ground sees the sky at it's most complicatedly cruel and goes yes! that can be me!I can burn where I stand and continue to exist! That's what I love in a plant, that reflection but especially when it's not imposed by us (I'm looking at you, Romantics).
I guess I'm a liar because I just said that I usually don't like yellow and green together and then here we are, very next page. But aren't they beautiful! The dandelions and the chains look like chicks inside of a chicken coop and maybe the roots are the mother hens I don't know but I like the thought. And for the other one (is it a Rose, maybe?) I love how the drying looks so lively! Don't worry though, I promise to keep her safe, regardless of how beautiful she looks when she isn't.
Maybe sometimes flowers look at the sky and don't see sunsets but see fireworks and maybe that's how this flower was born but maybe it happened backwards and they birthed our love of the lights because of how time works but really who could think that something like a plant could be constrained by such an insignificant thing as time? You can see the other plant here but it can see you too, peeking out like hidden eyes amongst eternal eyelids.
When I look at my deck I think that maybe we can all never really die because it looks like the tree that was in my backyard as a kid only we brought that tree with us across two different houses (sorry person who bought the house! we cannot leave family behind! we did leave a hole and a pile of dirt for you to admire). The tree is beautiful and grows more each year and maybe one day I'll have children and my children will smile at my tree like my tree smiled at me.
I don't think they'll be here much longer but that's how they live, isn't it? They're here so little before we kick them out or they die, somehow, when we don't notice and without a sound, and we don't really remember them until they come back and we have to face them again and really, isn't that immortality? Making yourself be dealt with over and over and over and over regardless of the changes in between? They will not die unless we remember them long enough.
Now that I don't live here all of the time I see plants in pots and I feel like they're my brothers and sisters and siblings when I go back home and I wish I knew their names so I could say hello and goodbye to them whenever I return and tell them how I am different and how I am the same but it's not the same if I give them a name that isn't really theirs. Can you see the faint lilac? It's hard to notice among the faded green but it's there and like me it's never really going to leave is it?
@sorginale