A February day like any other – overcast, drizzly, and cold – only this is England not Massachusetts; the light is soft and spring imminent. The pansies bloom in London’s window boxes, and in the countryside, where we stay for two nights, drifts of snowdrops splash the green grass. It was an embarrassingly short trip with reverberations that went back decades. We had gathered to celebrate the life (and honor the death) of my children's 97-year-old Granny, and we managed to take it all in with a mixture of sadness at the swift passage of even such a long life, and awe at the beauty and history of the visible world around us, a sense of the sacred augmented by flowers, as well as by friends and family; a sense of the past, and the rituals of mourning.
The ceremony took place in a tiny 13th century chapel… tiny and yet, like the proverbial Volkswagen Beetle out of which dance a dozen circus clowns, some 90 guests find comfort and peace on wooden pews inside the ancient stone walls. Little décor is needed in such a setting. Rather the gift of a sensitive hand and eye – a long-and-low arrangement of miniature yellow daffodils with moss and ivy sits on a window ledge in the apse. So natural, so pure; these flowers possess all the virtues of simplicity. The designer has clearly drawn on the promise of spring to sanctify and adorn the moment.
In London neighborhoods dense with boutiques and restaurants the predominant colors are gray and white interrupted by green parks and peaceful squares. Yet wee occasionally spy a flower stall (reminiscent of Eliza Doolittle in My Fair Lady?) nestled against a church wall, filled with sheaths of bright blooming lilies, roses, and the like, along with piquant bouquets set into niches in the stone facade. No one is minding the stall; perhaps the flower seller has nipped into the next door cafe for a cappuccino; and we all remark on these blooms that offer such delight to passersby.
And now I must admit we lost our digital camera at the British Museum, and all the shots of flowers in the museum and on the street vanished with it.
