» N.S. Books
December 7, 1997.
"Flowers preach to us if we will hear."
- Christina Rossetti (1830-94)
When you see a person who expresses a love of flowers, usually by having them around where he or she lives, then you may draw immediate conclusions as to what that person is like:
"We form judgments of men from little things about their houses, of which the owner, perhaps, never thinks. In earlier years when traveling in the West, where taverns were scarce, and in some places unknown, and every settler's house was a house of entertainment, it was a matter of some importance and some experience to select wisely where you should put up. And we always looked for flowers. If there were no trees for shade, no patch of flowers in the yard, we were suspicious of the place. But no matter how rude the cabin or rough the surroundings, if we saw that the window held a little trough for flowers, and that some vines twined about strings let down from the eaves, we were confident that there was some taste and carefulness in the log-cabin. In a new country, where people have to tug for a living, no one will take the trouble to rear flowers unless the love of them is pretty strong; and this taste, blossoming out of plain and uncultivated people, is itself a clump of harebells growing out of the seams of a rock. We were seldom misled. A patch of flowers came to signify kind people, clean beds, and good bread." (I believe this to be from the writings of one of the Beechers of Connecticut, maybe Harriet?)
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December, 1997 (2013)