Bursts of yellow, gold, russet, and deep maroon pepper flower beds, porches, and landscapes this time of year, proclaiming Fall.
Mums – Chrysanthemums: from the Greek words chrysos, meaning gold, and anthemon, meaning flower – have become the “Queen of fall flowers” in the U.S., according to several floral websites.
Originating from ancient Asian culture, throughout history, and across various cultures, the flower’s meaning has signified protection, ease, life, and death. Annual versions, like the Fall season, are alive with vibrant colors not long for this world. Perennials reign hardy and persist year after year.
Per the China Online Museum, in Chinese culture, the chrysanthemum is one of the “Four Gentlemen,” plants that represent each season. The plum, the orchid, the bamboo, and the chrysanthemum, have been the subjects of paintings for centuries because of their “refined beauty” and the “moral character” imbued upon them by Chinese literati.
The plum blossom, exuding beautiful exquisiteness amongst Winter’s desolation. A metaphor for inner beauty and steadfast strength under adverse conditions.
The orchid in Spring, full of fragility and grace, never overpowering in scent, symbolizes humility and nobility.
The bamboo, hollow signifying tolerance, and open-mindedness. Its stalk’s flexibility and endurance representing values of cultivation and integrity in which one yields but does not break.
And, finally, the chrysanthemum blooming in cold autumn air foretelling the approach of winter symbolizes the virtue of withstanding adversities.
*Source: http://www.chinaonlinemuseum.com
Change, this year’s constant prompted something different. Not in the mood for the usual, my 2018 fire escape garden is vivid with fall Rudbeckia gloriosa daisies.
Until next year my ever true and ardent royal friend, in your honor…
The Queen of Fall
by M.S. Alvarez
Regal, elegant, tall.
A summoning proclamation yielding vibrant hues
heralding a life lived
retreating, edging subdued
Dying to survive
crisp winds chilled air
A foretelling of winter’s darkness
the promise of its lair.
The Queen is dead. Long live the Queen!
Mozaik Ink 