Some days I like to think of flowers as sheer chaos, a strange term perhaps. There is no way I could have arranged these and in truth, it wouldn’t matter how they fell into the shape they are in. They just exude life.
The idealisation of flowers doesn’t suit my temperament. Maybe it does yours? I prefer to see them dying, imperfect or striving to open up, not yet the way we want to see them.
September is a big month for me. It is exactly eight years now since one of my sons decided not to talk with me again. He was 16 at the time and I was leaving his mother. He’s kept by that decision and I have to concede I am heartbroken.
Whatever attempts I make to build reconciliation fall away at the last minute.
My life slips back into sadness and hurt, so I get out some old photos and take a few new ones.
Lose myself in chaos.