Spending more time indoors than I care to, I've had to fend off cabin fever doldrums.  One way has been going through the slews of photographs I've taken, including those of my own backyard.  So how does my garden grow?  I gave up any attempt at urban plant life long ago after the demise of even the most unlikely (and unsuspecting) types, the philodendron and cactus.  One way I sustain rather than wreck botanical life is through my trusty camera.  I also am a collector of violets, but the ones in print and porcelain.   It began with learning of my birth connection as a February femme.  Though not the shrinking violet type (in this life anyway) the meaning of faithfulness and loyalty for the violet resonates with me. 

Floral motifs rank among the most universal throughout history.  But like colors they may be altered by time, place, and person.  Take the rose.  It can evoke love and romance, yet also aggression, sexuality, and religion.  I wrote the article "A Rose is a Rose is a Rose" for an issue of Design for the Rest of Us showing the rose interpreted by style (i.e. abstract, styled, vs.realistic).        

Since I love patterns, motifs, color, and meaning I thought I'd write up something on the symbolism of flowers.   After all, Victorian style has been trending (pardon the trendy word) for some time now.  While the notion of taxidermy may not play well here the way it seems to be in Paris, the language of flowers, or floriography, as Wikipedia, defines the  Victorian pedogogy, speaks to me.

I love my backyard of New York and so for this issue I've weeded out some seasonal botanicals to tell you what they mean to me.