A Flower Blossoms in its Own Time

The withering heights.

Summer is coming to a swift end, and I've spent much of it doing absolutely nothing of value (apart from work). But with the closing of the summer season, I can't say that I'm particularly disappointed. Having been born in winter, I get the feeling that I have a closer affinity to the colder months. Plus, I have things to do, boots to wear, fur coats to show off, felt hats to rock. In the colder months, my dress sense is a little more refined. But what I will miss about the warmer season are the flowers and plants. In an effort to personalise my blog again, I've started carrying my camera around, it's incredible how much beauty you see when you just look up. Yes yes, I'm one of those people that stare at the pavement as I walk rather, than ahead of me, it's an annoying habit that I haven't managed to kick to the curb yet. Anyhow, on my lunch break from work I decided to roam the streets of central London to find some flowers. These are the prettiest ones I came across. Having been obsessed with flowers and plants for a while now, I thought it seemed fitting to take advantage of the last of the summer florals. This isn't my first time professing my love for flowers, of course, my last blogpost on this subject saw me realising the romantic nerd hibernating within me. I'm pleased to confirm that not much has changed. The sight of well arranged flowers and plants still conjures up an excited yelp from me—and I'm upset that people don't particularly see the beauty of them. Flowers are probably one of the few things that don't require effort to appreciate. They're full of colour, and posses awesome forms, they smell incredible, you can eat some of them, use them as ointments, and wear most of them.  

"As for us, our life is like grass. We grow and flourish like a wildflower;
then the wind blows on it, and it is gone—no one sees it again."

—Psalms 103:15-16