I haven’t had carnations in years. Cat used to eat them, pulling them enthusiastically from the vase. Actually, that’s not quite accurate, it was the leaves and stems he chewed, I don’t remember him eating the flowers, but I may have photographic evidence that shows otherwise. I reckoned he was attracted by their distinctive peppery smell. A smell these hothouse ones entirely lack, though I do have a bad cold, and perhaps I am missing something. So the buttery cream carnations I bought at the weekend in remembrance of him are the first I have had for a very long time. I have been staring at them. They were on the table and their shadows on the wall were delicately beautiful. I’ve moved them to the book table where they also look beautiful.
These aren’t the best photos, taken a minute ago without flash, but I was gazing at them again and decided to write this post. Maybe tomorrow I’ll manage some daylight photos that will do them more justice.
Still, they may make a pleasant change from my dying flower pix. Which reminds me, I have somed fading tulip photos to post at some point.
Somehow carnations went very much out of fashion. I can remember my brother-in-law raising a supercilious eyebrow when my mother received some as a gift. No one with pretensions to taste had carnations. True, there was a terrible phase where some florists dipped them in dye and rendered the flowers fluorescent, but it’s a bit tough to condemn a plant because of human crassness.
I have a feeling I shall be buying more carnations and being happily unfashionable in my choice of cut flowers.