"Perfumes are the feelings of flowers, and as the human heart, imagining itself alone and unwatched, feels most deeply in the night-time, so seems it as if the flowers, in musing modesty, await the mantling eventide ere they give themselves up wholly to feeling, and breathe forth their sweetest odours. Flow forth, ye perfumes of my heart, and seek beyond these mountains the dear one of my dreams!"
~Heinrich Heine, "The Hartz Journey" (1824), Pictures of Travel, translated from German by Charles Godfrey Leland, 1855
Last week I went to a local nursery in search of flowers. There's something about a nursery that gets my senses all a fire, rows upon rows of color, living plants awaiting the moment they'll be chosen and planted in their permanent homes. Flowers I've never seen before, exotic or classic, sparking my wonder.
And while I was walking about I suddenly found myself in a room, flowers hanging from the ceiling and coming off the ground, all at different levels.
It was like walking in a dream.
Even now as a reminisce, going through the pictures I captured, deciding what I'll post here, I'm sitting at my desk, a familiar classical piece playing on the radio, wind chimes singing outside my window, the air cool and crisp: I love Spring.