it is merely an intuition. one could consider it as having several meanings. when a gardener takes pains to compose a garden so that it erupts like visual music in the spring, she researches her plants, and places things according to the patterns of the seasons they follow. size, color, texture, maturation rate, and life span are considerations. if she looks ahead, she will design the experience so that as spring fades through summer, fall and winter plants begin to bloom in their place, creating new patterns to distract the eye from the dormancy of the main composition, and even chooses plants, who in their sleep, maintain a curious texture in their foliage. gardens are not only sensual for the eyes and the nose, and the ears, but created well, they are brimming with surfaces one wants to fondle and pet. regardless of the level of planning and foresight, gardens maintain their wild nature through seeds and bulbs that may remain latent for years, and which emerge when the environment invites them to awaken into its loveliness.
these odd blossoms are the true attraction for a gardner who likes the element of the unknown. she will watch with anticipation to see what luxurious forms will open up over the course of a season.
while other plants in the garden are known immediately by their names, families, likes and dislikes, the odd blossom first exists without a name, beyond a familiar identification. slowly, in its own time, it reveals through its form, the properties which can be used to identify it and therefore nurture it properly.
. . .
these blossoms, being odd, may also come from a moment of abstract sexual fantasizing, or perhaps they are a reference to regular periods of creativity and drought, as interrupted by singularly bright, fascinating outburst of experience and wondering. those blooms which leave one breathless.
. . .
titles, intuitively, are words the mouth likes to utter, and forms the eyes like to crawl over, and perhaps sonorous sounds the ears can be fond of. say it aloud.
