Some of you will remember my original story about that wonderful little book called, The Language of Flowers…a small quaint book, detailed in the most simple yet decorated hand painting. I first discovered this book while staying with a dear family in Atlanta, and when I first picked it up I knew it was not like any other book I had ever seen. It looked like one of a kind, a once off created manuscript, printed for one reader, for one love, for the eyes of one beholder. I felt privileged to even hold it.
I flicked though the front pages, and soon discovered that I was not far from the truth in my observations. It was indeed a very special little book. Before my eyes, were lots of hand drawings of flowers, names inserted in a calligraphy pen, and then lists and lists of flowers, and the reason one may give them to another. It grabbed my heart. How happy I was that it had been so nicely arranged where it was, so that some guest or family member may be warmed by its presence. Looking back now, it couldn’t have found a more loving or deserving home, than the one in which I discovered it.
Well this is my exciting sequel to that beautiful romantic story. Since I originally wrote about this book on Valentine’s Day, I thought another Valentine’s Day would be the perfect time to reveal some beautiful details about the author and this book.
After my previous story about this book, I received an incredible letter from Laurie (who’s mother was the object of love, for whom this precious book was written) Laurie is now custodian of the book, and wished me to know some more details about it…so please read on to learn of the gorgeous gems I was sent to share with you.
Thanks for your prompt reply. I will try to give you as much information as I have regarding the book, The Language of Flowers, and its history. The author was F.W.L (Frederik Lucas) a Jew who was my mother’s (Margaret Florence Jean Pickston) grandfather. I know little about his life although he was an artist of some standing and my mother says his work was in the Royal Academy of Art, but I cannot confirm that yet as it needs more research.
Now this book was never meant to be published and was written for his wife as a token of love, for I believe an anniversary (in 1913) or birthday from, ” Father to Mother”. How long it took him is not known but would assume some time as he secretly undertook his work every evening after his wife retired to bed. For years it lay in pieces in my Grandfather’s clothes drawer, gathering dust, until 1967/1968. My parents were at a party, when polite conversation turned to the little book, and by chance a gentleman overheard who worked for Micheal Joseph, the book publishers.
He explained he was most interested in seeing the book as Michael Joseph had not published a book like this before. So the book was sent to London and rebound/restored to its former glory, including its original handmade leather dust jacket. Then the first copy went to print on 10/10/1968, which also happened to be when I was born.
You will see numerous mistakes in the book such as paint brush marks on pages and written mistakes. A little known fact is that this book was entirely illustrated by paint brush, including all the meanings of the plants, with the exception being the forwarding poem to mother. I am not sure if the book is still in print as Penguin books have taken over and produced a run a few years back to send to every library in the U.S.A. I hope this long letter builds a picture in your mind about what I call “the little book” AKA The Language of Flowers.
I am sure when this loving gentleman worked secretly on this labour of love for his wife, that he had no idea just how very loved it would be, by his wife and so many others. Today, may you find a labour of love to embrace, and make it your absolute passion to share it with the world. Someday I hope to make it to London and hold the original in my hands, so watch out for part three to The language of Flowers saga.
Today I want to introduce a new writer on the block, and in the theme of love and romance it seems only right that he share a beautiful love story with you… Take it away Andy! It is a pleasure to have you write your first (of many) blogs on my watch. Denise
“Is This Love?”
by Andy Patton
“Is This Love?” If you are anything like me or grew up in the 80s, when you read those words your mind was instantly transported back to the year 1987, and you began to hum the tune to that classic ballad by Whitesnake.
When I first saw her it wasn’t love… or was it? When I first talked to her it wasn’t love… well maybe it was… no it definitely wasn’t. I know it wasn’t, because I couldn’t understand most of what she said! Not because she was soft spoken, shy or timid. In fact, just the opposite. Honestly, it was her thick Dublin accent that held me at bay and forced me to nod, smile and pathetically attempt to piece together the few words I did understand.
She was full of life and it manifested itself in the fast paced manner in which she bounded into conversation. It flowed from her lips with such ease and joy. She welcomed the opportunity to share her delight and vigor for life with any who would engage her. Desiring to express her glee with life, her conversation seemed to gain speed the more she talked!
That morning she had gathered with several ladies for their customarily tea and talk, and I stumbled into the kitchen looking for a bucket and sponge. Being a 20 – something young man of course she captured my eye, but I fought desperately not to ogle. I do believe I eeked out a disastrously awkward “good morning” greeting as I hurried to disappear. All the while, it was her carefree poise that silently screamed at my heart.
Was there any doubt I was an American in Dublin? Could she tell that I was from a far distant mysterious place called New England? Could she know without me saying a word that I was instantly drawn to her?
I hoped so….
As the next week unfolded, I found myself more and more in her company. Each time I felt a bit bolder to interact with her. Now mind you, I wasn’t intimidated, but excited to hear what new adventures or experiences life had brought her since we last chatted. Okay maybe I was smitten. Her brown eyes sparkled and her smile was intoxicating. But at least, I could now grasp most of the conversation. Either I had honed my listening skills or she had slowed down her talking speed, or maybe a combination of both. At any rate I was enjoying every second of it.
Is this Love? Well maybe the start of it, for me at least. What I had discovered was all that I had encountered, all that I had been privileged to experience during my times with her, it wasn’t special to her, it was normal. She was just being her! I realized the interaction I had with her was the connection that everyone had with her. Not because of them and their efforts, but hers. She loved people of all shapes, sizes and colors. She just simply loved being around and involved in the lives of the people she came in contact with, anywhere and any time. That is what I loved first about her. Love is a two way street and are these two people, moving in opposite directions, willing to step off the sidewalk? After all it had only been a week!
Are you serious? Come on! Could that have really happened? I must have been dreaming! Was I? For more than a week I had been chatting off and on with this wonderful young woman, and she had captivated me with her zest for life. She cherished each moment of each day and that trickled down to anyone she spoke to, myself included.
We had spent lunches in cafés with friends, bowling events with fellow team members and site-seeing tours around various attractions in the city. Our conversations were centered on our cultures, young adult life in our respective countries and our families. I was staying with a host family outside the city center, which required me to catch a bus each evening.
My routine was to hop on and make my way upstairs to the top deck so I could take in the sights from a better vantage point. From there I could witness the bustling streets filled with pedestrians, cyclists and peddlers, I was enamored with it all.
Most journeys my mind retraced my steps of the day, and many of them guided me back to my daily communiqué with the energetic, inspiring woman I was growing so fond of. I found myself wanting to extend our get-togethers in order to spend more time getting to know her. Talking with her was effortless and time seemed to stand still when I was around her.
One evening early on in my summer long adventure, I was actively engaging life with my host family. Our talks ranged from me trying to fit into their culture, to learning the slang vocabulary and decoding their accents. I figured the more I talked with them the easier it would be to understand the people I would meet during my travels in town each day… after all it was English they were speaking so I just needed to listen more than I talked.
On that memorable night my I learned more about their family than I could have imagined. First of all they had five kids… Up until that point I had only known the two youngest. The older three were moved out of the house. The two older sons were living in England and their oldest lived in the city with a couple of roommates. As I shared my family dynamic of having three older sisters and no brothers, they related that their family makeup was just the reverse. There was one girl and four brothers. I was the youngest and their daughter was the oldest. I remember thinking I haven’t even seen family photos around the house to tip me off to how many children they actually had.
They told me all about the their kids as they were growing up and we laughed at similar stories of childhood. Then they pulled out a few photos to introduce me to the three older kids I had not yet met, obviously the two older boys were out of country so they didn’t see them much. Their daughter had not come by to visit, at least when I was there. As they showed me pictures of her when she was little and progressively through her younger years.
She looked familiar, so familiar I felt as though I knew her. Then came one photo that had been taken a few months prior to me arriving. To my amazement…it was her! The girl that so captured my near every thought, the girl that sauntered into my life nearly two weeks ago. I was living in her old bedroom and eating evening meals and enjoying laughter filled chats with her dad and mom!
To be continued…
More of this wonderful story soon so stay tuned… Andy
Have you ever wondered what a ROSE really means? If someone significant gives you a certain rose, in a specific color, what does that color mean?
Well over the past few days while watching a certain Elizabeth Gaskell 1800 period drama, I was reminded of this very thing.
So I began searching for the message behind the giving of a rose to someone…
Here are my findings… Coral Roses convey ‘Desire” Lavender Roses symbolize “Love at first sight and enchantment“ Orange Roses indicate “Enthusiasm, desire and fascination“ Pink (Deep) says “Thank You“ . . . it also means “I will wait” Pink (Light) Rose conveys “Admiration, gentleness, grace, gladness, joy and sweetness“ Red Roses symbolize sincere “Love, Respect, Courage & Passion” Red (Dark) Rose reveals “Unconscious beauty” Red (Single) means “I Love You” Red & White Roses together signify ‘Unity” Single Rose in any color expresses ‘Simplicity and gratitude“ White Roses express “Purity/heavenly, secrecy, silence, innocence and charm“ White (Bridal) Rose symbolizes a “Happy love“ . . & “I am YOURS” Yellow Roses indicate “Joy, gladness, friendship” and “I Care” Yellow Rose with Red Tip indicates “Friendship that is falling in Love”
The description after the color indicates how you feel about the person to whom you are sending the rose…
Here are some other rose color descriptions I found ~
The meaning of red roses is romantic love. A deep red rose is for lovers, a bright red rose signifies passion, while cardinal red roses symbolize desire.
Red roses that are fully opened are thought to mean “I’m still in love with you”, while a bouquet of red rose buds is an expression of first true love or a new love.
The meaning of red and white roses mixed in a bouquet, conveys the feeling of love.
Yellow roses mean friendship, happiness in the home.
Yellow roses can also symbolize or convey a message of ‘I’m Sorry”. The ‘Yellow Rose of Texas’ is often used for these purposes.
Meaning of White Roses
White roses symbolize innocence, purity, loyalty and sincerity. White roses are also the most popular bridal roses or wedding roses.
When white roses are mixed with red ones, it conveys the feeling of love.
The meaning of pink roses and many shades of pink of different color roses symbolize an expression of romance, beauty, elegance, joy and admiration.
Dark pink roses, or hot pink roses, also conveys the meaning of thankfulness. A bouquet of both pink and red roses symbolizes a romantic partnership saying ‘I will wait”
Orange roses symbolize great achevements in someones life. Orange roses are given at graduations and at job promotions!
The meaning of peach roses is to convey a message of appreciation and thanks. If you would like to thank someone, send them a bouquet of peach or coral roses.
The meaning of purple roses is eternal true love. And that“I will love you forever!”.
Lavender or lilac rose colors mean the beginning of true love…
Purple roses are most often used for wedding anniversaries after 25 years and beyond. They are also used as a memorial rose for a departed spouse.
Very deep purple roses are meant to be given for intimate personal situations.
Black roses symbolize death and sorrow and are often used at funerals, The meaning of black roses can bemisunderstood, so be sure you know the persons beliefs before you give or send red black roses.
I hope I have shed light on what different color roses symbolize.
If you know of any others, please feel free to add them in a comment at the end here…=)
Now, all I can think about are the specific roses I wish to send someone…how about you!