A tête-à-tête coffee bench
Vibrant fragrant daffodils have been one of my favorite early flowers ever since I decided to endure the long German winter with no breaks; I was never a part-time Berliner, but now that the distance to loved ones became greater than ever due to Covid-19 rising infection and death numbers in Portugal, two things are growing in me:
the contempt for tourists in quest of consumerism
- now oblivious to struggling public health systems in poorer countries, where they never stopped flying to; enjoying luxurious quarantines by the pool in order to avoid miserably tiny city centre apartments under greyer skies in richer European capitals -
and
the love for everything of beauty offering natural solace
against isolation and saudade,
of which I am choosing to focus on Narcissus here.
Daffodils are basically all tall and shaped like trumpets smelly flower bulbs called Narcissus. Funny enough, once upon a time not too long ago, in the theatre, as I picked them to greet the audience for the second Thursday in a row, there was a notably self centered actor, that I used to work with on stage, criticizing my taste in flowers: it’s apparently inappropriately intensive. He might be absolutely right. I like intensive people and situations too much, most times. I miss it enormously, all the intensive diverse life exchanges accompanying intensive coffee with some intensive smell. I like the gaze and the irreplaceable intimacy that only an eye to eye talk might offer. These days, I crave a good one now and then. Possibly a bit too often, I even indulge in going over memories looking for some of the best I’ve had so far.
I had no idea that this sub-species sort of smaller and more fragile daffodils were called tête-à-tête until I found them at the supermarket today and noticed the print on the plastic vase; I like them even more as of now.
Canada Goldenrods is also to my taste presently all around. I couldn’t resist buying them either, although they’re not supposed to bloom till before the end of June... most florists are closed and I don’t come across nice old ladies illegally selling seasonal flowers at the backyard that often. It’s really lovely when I do, but other people immediately queue up in masses without masks and I won’t approach then, even if just to check the goodies. At the urban patio my partner and I occupied for gardening (and other community projects), there are loads of plants and pasture for bees, birds, insects and an evil squirrel, including herbs, bushes, trees, some veggies, fruits, different sorts of cactus and beautiful silver grass... but I am still always longing for more flowers anyway. Specially in February.
I like yellow and I love green. I adore the idea that Spring will come one day not that faraway. Meanwhile, let us all wash out the grey. For what art too is essential, by the way. It’s marvelous that it will never be possible to cancel it completely.
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