Ranunculus

Helen’s bridal bouquet

Helen’s bouquet was lovely, wasn’t it? I don’t know the names of all the flowers in it — roses (obviously), lily-of-the-valley (a nod to my mother — that was what she carried in her bridal bouquet), and ranunculus (that peachy-colored one that is dead center). I feel like I should know the names of the purple ones and the white ones but I don’t. (Anyone?)

Ranunculus is one of my favorite flowers. I first remember buying a few stems at the Farmers’ Market for my ikebana pot and delighting as they opened from small round balls to those amazing delicate layers-upon-layers of petals.

In the ikebana vase
Another ikebana arrangement

I bought fresh stems on every visit to the Farmers’ Market in my year of ranunculus-discovery. Until they ran out.

“Not even one last bud?” I asked, trying not sound whiny.

“No. Their season is past,” replied the woman at the stand, and I went away sad.

The next year I purchased them early and often.

Ranunculus. What an ugly name for such a lovely flower. It sounds clunky and awkward, not delicate and beautiful. The name derives from Latin for “little frog.” I don’t see the similarity.

A little frog that I photographed on a walk.

I do not like rude people.

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