the garden
Forget-me-nots in the front garden — were there when I moved in.

Well, they may not be there anymore … sad tale. Will see.

From spring to winter and year to year, the garden changes and flourishes yet comes back again the same. Each spring, I am astounded at the delicate flowers and stems that come up, as if it were the first time I see them. Which, in a way, for that new year, is exactly what happens.

myosotis

my·​o·​so·​tis | forget-me-nots

It is difficult to say which is my favorite flower, as I have many faves. My husband says it’s King Arthur (whatever).

Forget-me-nots have lived in my memory since childhood. I saw a movie when I was young. It was a 1971 movie, don’t know when I saw it, but probably when it came out, as my mother loved the main actor. My recollection is of a field of forget-me-nots, which the main male character called myosotis, their real (Latin) name. The memory is of a sad yet tender encounter between a couple. It was intense and beautiful and probably too much for a little girl, but I have carried it with me all my life.

“You must be gypsy.” He places the book on the night table and holds a hand out. “Speak to me: blue.”

“I owned playing cards when I was young. They were small.”

“What does that have to do with blue?” He watches her lips as she whispers.

“The prominent color was baby blue. On the back was a picture of a little girl with blond curls. She was dressed in blue and wore a wide-brimmed hat, carried a basket of forget-me-nots.” Sara holds her breath for a second, then smiles.

“Their name is myosotis.”

LIKE A BLUE THREAD
SHIMMERING BLANKET OF DIAMONDS