I was born in Sr. Borge’s house, on rua da Arquinha, in Ponta Delgada, São Miguel, Açores. I lived there until the age of two, so it’s not probable that I remember its orchard of banana trees (bananeiras), figs trees (figueiras) and araçaleiros; nonas, and groselhas. It’s also not probable that I remember the garden’s rose bushes (roseiras) and daisies (malmequeres), among the many other flowers that filled the garden. And yet I still recall that garden of childhood whenever I walk through my flower garden.
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Your pictures are gorgeous! Are these all flowers in your home garden? Also, I love the phrase “garden of childhood”.
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I’m so glad you like them. Yes. All these flowers are all from my home garden. Maybe one day you will come and see my garden. The invitation is always there for you, my friend.
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Dear Emanuel,
Beautiful flowers, their beauty captured lovingly by your camera. You have the master’s touch. Thank you for posting these beauties.
Love,
Carol
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Thanks you, Carol. I’m glad you got to come and see some of them this summer, too. Thank you for gracing our garden with your presence.
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Emanuel, you really need to adjust the attitude of your hydrangeas. Don’t they know they’re supposed to be Azorean blue??? 😉
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Kathie, my relationship with all the flowers in my garden is one of delight in who they are and to simply enjoy them for being themselves; not to try to change them to conform to an idealized version of what it means to exist in the world. But regardless, pink hydrangea exist in the Azores, too!
My hydrangea is on Canadian soil but I put it to you that flowers do not know nor care about issues of identity or belonging. These are human constructs that we engage in but which I am beginning to think take away from our ability to be citizens of the world. Flowers are ahead of us on this!
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I can practically touch them and smell them! Good eye, good camera, tender heart.
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