a short season
Right now, wisteria twines through all our fences. For about a week or so, the pale purple flowers blossom and scent the air. They're far too fragile to bring indoors, so the only way to fully enjoy them is to stand next to them and breathe in.
The day that we first saw the house, the wisteria was in bloom, and as we walked through the empty rooms, we kept looking out the windows at the flashes of purple. Everything was crumbling or sagging -- the walls, the floors, the ceilings, the roof, the chimney, but we were smitten by the height of the doors and the way the rooms all ran together without a dividing hallway. "Look," we kept saying to each other "Look at that." We wrote up an offer, sitting on the stone steps of the front porch. I like to think we were happy then, looking forward to what we hoped would be our new life, but, in truth, I can't remember what we felt.
15 comments:
The particular shade of purple in that photo -- periwinkle, maybe -- is to me the most beautiful color there is.
And wisteria's fragility and short season would serve only to make me appreciate it that much more.
I love wisteria. I want to buy one, but I really can't figure out where to put it.
I often think that a lot of our emotions only exist in hindsight because they are too hard to recognize in the moment. If you imagine you were happy then, you probably were.
The flowers are beautiful. Our entire city is literally bursting into bloom- it really is something.
Beautiful flowers.
You seem to be surrounded by beautiful views.
You must fit right in:)
May you be happy again the next time wisteria bloom. May you sit on the steps and think fondly of Clarissa and treasure your newly expanded family.
Ruby Since I'm planning to post a picture of myself soon, you'll be able to make a more informed judgment.
And wisteria really is a paradox, the flowers are delicate, but the plant itself is as sturdy and invasive as a weed, almost impossible to get rid of.
Wisteria is indeed a paradox. I have one that is in the wrong place, will never bloom, and yet, every time I hack it back, it resprouts. Tenacious.
It reminds me of pain and depression. The first time I dove into the darkness, my husband and I went for a walk to the Conservatory Garden, where the wisteria pergola was in full bloom. I walked under the pergola, sobbing.
Magpie That's such a terribly sad image. I'm so sorry.
Julia Many thanks for the good wishes.
I was not referring to your physical attributes. My comment was directed at the beauty I've seen entwined by your words through the pages of your blog.
It will still be nice to see your picture:)
Oh, that's even a nicer compliment. Thank you.
Wisteria is capable of taking the roof off a house and also of coming up, albino, in the basement through cracks in the foundation.
(Make of that what you will.)
It's quite a step you're contemplating, with a picture.
My N.C. in-laws had a death in the wisteria family due to an untimely freeze.
Yours looks luscious.
What a gorgeous photo. I recently bought a new house too and I think it was the flowering tree in the back garden that did it. It's funny how you can overlook the house's flaws, when there's one impressive thing.
I agree with the comment about the beautiful words too. They are also gorgeous!
It can be hard to remember what it felt like to be happy, yet I'm sure you were.
It seems to me that when we are going through the difficult times it feels as though we have always been this way...as though being happy or hopeful was all just a dream or a delusion.
Sorry...I don't mean to be such a little rain cloud.
Thank you for sharing the lovely picture of the wisteria. I also look forward to seeing a picture of you.
I love wisteria. Don't know where I'd put one though.
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