Wild and Free (II)

I’m a fraudster nature lover. I love flowers and I love them in my vases. I love how they soften the hard walls of a hard home, I love how their fragrance dissolves the smell of frustration. I love their bright colours, and sometimes their pure whites. I love how they sit tall and proud in the water filled with paracetamol so that they can last longer than without.

I forgot though, that they can last much longer in their natural habitat. They can enjoy the sun, the mineralised water through the natural soil, the interaction with the micro-organisms, the wind on their petals, the seasonal winds of different temperatures. The service to and from the other beings of the animal kingdom.

Orange lilies line the road leading to Monet’s house. Oh my, how tall they can grow!


If you love a flower, don’t pick it up. Because if you pick it up it dies and it ceases to be what you love. So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation.


I like to push the blame to me being a City Girl. Never knew lilies grow in the wild till I was at Monet’s, walking down his neighbourhood with orange lilies swaying in the wind right along the roadside. I always knew roses were weeds, but that was all. I would still have the fragrance of a rose, whether weed or preciously grown, because I still love their presence, the soft presence just softens me up as well. Excuses, excuses. Truth be told, it is the convenience of buying cut fresh flowers already in their bloom-y state, rather than planting and taking care of them.

Up on the 18th storey of the concrete jungle, we have a garden where humming birds and butterflies visit. This is filled with potted plants, carefully taken care of by my parents – dad being the utilitarian making sure they are sufficiently watered, while mom is the appreciator, tending to their overgrown leaves, and announcing to everyone about the newest blooms (which no one really bothered with, other than a nod). I got potted orchids before, but neglected them after their first blooms wilted, and then mom patiently tended to them till their next bloom a year later. I grew tulips from bulbs before too, but left them to their own demise (or enjoyment) after they bloomed, because I knew then what colours they were and what they smelt like, and that was sufficient for me.

My first (and only) pot of orchids so tiny they are smaller than the rose on my credit card.

Appreciate the moment, here and now, where we (/they) are. Smell the flowers.

Thank you Cee’s Photography for filling up my everyday with the inspiring beauty of all sorts of flowers.

6 Comments Add yours

  1. Beautiful words so well written and such wonderful pictures of nature at its best.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. leapingtoes says:

      Thank you for your kind words~

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Juli Hoffman says:

    I’m a bad plant mommy, but I go through the motions! LOL

    Liked by 1 person

  3. Cee Neuner says:

    Wonderful lilies 😀


  4. Wind Kisses says:

    I love this. When we lived in National Parks, I loved that the wild flowers were protected. And that is why they grow like patchwork quilts across valleys. Hmmm…. to think, no chemicals, no fertilizers, and no bother. They are just present.

    Liked by 1 person

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