Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur

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Thenarius
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Joined: Wed Mar 16, 2011 6:38 pm
Location: E'er entwined in shimm'ring wings.

Un bouquet de houx vert et de bruyère en fleur

Post by Thenarius »

Lanceflore had come into a strange habit of telling the weather by the way his garden acted.

It was never a conscious decision on his part to engage in such divination; he thought the idea foolish, and thus carefully did not permit himself to think on it now. Every day at noon he would walk through the garden, slowly, meditatively, examining each plant to understand how it reacted. They each had different personalities, to him. Yet they tended to come to a consensus, conveying the same idea through very different words.

The lilies would droop when rain was coming soon, but only the white and pink ones. The tiger lilies, on the other hand, stood up proud, absorbing every last bit of sun they could, daring the rain to try and suppress their beauty. He thought to himself sometimes that they looked excited, too, ready to feast on each drop.

The roses would seem to grow closer to one another, as if they were huddling together for warmth. The carnations would spread their petals, readying to drink in deeply the life-bringing water.

With time, he came to recognize that his garden reflected not only the world around him, but his inner world as well. He could sense changes in the flowers, imperceptible to the eye, when he would walk among them. The lavender smelled sweeter in his sorrow; the daisies would wilt in sympathy for him.

The trees were stronger, more stoic. He understood them less well, pausing often on his walks to press his palm against their trunks to try to get a sense of what they were thinking (though he never admitted this to himself). The laburnums were brimming with life, and they appeared so bright to him some days that his eyes hurt to look at them. They expressed a supreme contentment and joy, and on some days he could not bear to be around them for the strength of it. He thought himself fortunate they were in a far corner of the garden, and he did not have to endure the fullness of their life every day.

He adored the olive trees for their quiet solidity. He became very conscious of his breathing whenever he touched them, as if he were training himself to "breathe" along with them. They offset the harshness of the joy of the laburnums, and he felt himself kindred to them in a strange way. Though, he thought, he shared this feeling of kin with all his plants some days.
Wedjat Iaret, Ra no Omezu