I didn’t even have to steal this flower; I found it fallen upon my path yesterday morning after I’d written my first post of the new series.
I noticed its color when I saw it so lively upon the asphalt concrete: warm rose blended with violet and amethyst, my most desired color pink for a flower. It has the refreshing, distinct aroma and intricate petaled spiral of a chrysanthemum, but where were the others? It did not matter; I gently lifted it up and placed it carefully inside my purse to bring back home.
Above photo shows the day’s early afternoon cup of sencha green tea in the sunny living room with the flower nearby.
In the dark it was bright even when I turned off a light before bed to fold forward, resting on my belly against the cushion, chest and heart lifted upon the zafu, the full, open blossom cupped in my outstretched hands.
It was still bright even with lamps unlit and too dark to see its color.
Blossoms do best in the dark and cool, I’d read, so I placed it in a small wooden jewelry box on my bookshelf and tapped the box closed before I went to sleep.
When I woke, I lifted the flower out of the wooden box, almost light, got myself ready to have tea in the living room, same cup cleansed and everything in my home looking a little more new.
Upon the tea towel, the cup of loose leaf keemun black tea with a splash of almond milk, and beside the cup, the fallen flower found opening up in the flood of warm morning sun.