Conversations with flowers and other ways of being real.

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I haven’t always liked flowers.
For most of my life I couldn’t care less about them, thinking they were only for old ladies to tend in their garden or what mother’s demanded on mother’s day.
It’s amazing how you can go through life missing out on something so extraordinary, so wonderful, so amazing, so uplifting and so inspiring. I was blind to a beauty that maybe I wasn’t yet ready to appreciate or understand.
But a few years ago when I started doing the Frog and the Well cartoons, I noticed I was drawing flowers, lots of them. They became my ‘go to’ thing to draw to represent what I was trying to say.
When life gets too complicated, too busy, to full of bullshit and I feel I’m losing touch with my inner core, I’m drawn to flowers again. To either look at them, talk to them, sit with them, think about them or draw them.
Yes, I did say talk to flowers. Flowers talk, actually they can sing too, but more about that another time.
I don’t know the names of most flowers, I don’t need to. They don’t refer to themselves by a name, so I don’t feel I need too either. I know ‘daisies’ though. The delicate white petals and yellow inner heart that radiates joy directly into my soul.
I mainly like flowers in situ. Where they want to grow, especially wildflowers. You’ve seen the vacant lots, where wild grasses are left to spread untamed and their flowers dot the scene with yellows, pinks and purples. Fuck I love that.  I love the idea that when we as humans unlove something, mother nature will grow a flower in that place to show that it is still loved.
Flower arranging is bit too deliberate, too serious, to contrived for me. A simple flower popping up from a crack in the concrete is enough.
Keep it simple. Keep it pure, keep it honest.
Spend time with a flower, maybe even talk to it and you’ll understand what I mean.

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