Bleeding hearts, sprigs of sweet scented lilac and Solomon’s seal… The sensuality of flowers is hypnotic. Their passion enters through our eyes as they fan themselves wide open, asking the birds and the bees for pollination. They exude ethereal love as we gaze upon them, flaunting their naked ephemeral beauty. Bleeding hearts in springtime – wild yet refined like young beauties in the throes of their first love singing songs of longing with elegant grace and poignant sweetness…
Category Archives: nature photography
The scent of a rose sweeps me into another world . A world where only lovers can enter , leaving their sanity behind ; abandoned and forgotten in the world that lives outside the boundaries of the heart . The scent of a rose can send me spinning backwards , tumbling free fall into a timeless world where once my heart filled the space of Angels . And where rainbows shimmered with every breath , alive with the light of love .
- A Sense of Nostalgia (blahblahbl000000g.wordpress.com)
- scented rainbows (miniatureforestgardens.wordpress.com)
- DE NATURA : Four organic perfumes from the collection of Frazer Parfums (2011) (theblacknarcissus.com)
- Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgia (katharinetrauger.wordpress.com)
- Smell ‘camera’ preserves odors for posterity (news.cnet.com)
Eyes of wonder ; my eyes as a child . I was dazzled by flowers . They enchanted me . I knew all their names . My mother taught me . She taught me to sing to them , and to ask their forgiveness and to thank them , before I ever plucked one . Their spirits would be at peace that way , and would welcome me when I encountered them again .At other times or in other gardens .
She taught me how to make fairy crowns each summer . My favorites we would make in June , weaving daisies and sometimes roses into headdresses adorned them with vines , and other flowers . Singing songs , plaiting and winding the stems of the flowers, my mother taught me to honor their spirits , and to reach out to them with song . She taught me how to feel out melodies , to speak to them to find their songs , trying several until the right tones came .
Songs call out the fairies . The right tone once found , resonates , and calls them out . One must be very quiet , and in a solitary place to call them . Different spirits of Nature respond to different sounds . Some instruments can call them out of their hiding , like the pipes of Pan .The veil between our worlds is shattered . The song is a passe partout … it opens the doors , and they are freed , Curious , they step into our dimension . we can feel them , sometime we can see them , and sometime , sometimes , they put on their glaomour , and opening their doors , welcome us into their realm of perception .
Midsummer is the portal . We can then step through the veils of parallel dimensions , fairy walking . Enter the world of Flora and Persephone , of our Goddess Gaiia . A world of greem ; of plants and flowers . Entering the fairy realm , we can then ask for teaching and seek knowledge , asking their guidance . That is the place of shamans and healers . My hand was taken , and I was led there .
The fairy blood runs in my own veins , always passed through the maternal side . My Mother and her Mother had been schooled in the old arts by their mothers and grandmothers before them . A long line of pagan queens , they nurtured each girl child in the old ways as they had been for generations past .
Gathering seeds , saying prayers ,they sang their songs ,roadmaps to another world , gleaning , brewing , spreading their love and their knowledge . And healing …. with the whispered gifts of fairies .
Working beside her in gardens . Loving and tending the earth . Sifting it and digging it to come close to its’ secrets .
How can one be a healer if you do not know the language of the herbs and plants and flowers … How can you be its’ lover if you have not tended the rose , and been pricked by its; thorns ? But , I am getting so far ahead … years forward .I want to stay there still for a moment longer . Weaving chains of daisies as I did as a child , singing songs , and dreaming of the dreams that I would one day weave into my own crown of flowers .
She appears and disappears .. bringing the drunken lushness of spring in all its’ glory…. the blessings of the Goddess . The Mysterious Queen of May emerges, Her body opens with color. She spreads her beauty wide, like the legs of a woman in the throes of love, birthing Springtime from the barren cold; the miracle of life… Mystical words of love written in her eyes, she beckons you to come- to fulfill the sacred rites of the Goddess. A Queen crowned with flowers, waiting for the roses of June… Astarte with the horns of Isis, she holds the Key that opens Heaven to the stars.
- A mysterious Goddess is growing out of the images taken in my month ‘s stay close to a beautiful