White Hyacinths
Sunday, January 22nd, 2006 10:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tourmalineIt's Sunday night, and the hyacinths are blooming and fragrant. The trio of white hyacinths in the pot on the kitchen windowsill spread their scent throughout the house. Of course, the scent is particularly pungent in the kitchen itself, ensuring that washing up after a meal is associated with the smell of flowers rather than Fairy Liquid.
Hyacinths first came into our home and our noses about five years ago. Having never bought a plant in a pot, I decided I was now far enough away from my teenage years to buy one for myself without embarassment. I chose blue flowers, which turned out to be a beautiful striped mix of pale blue, wedgewood blue, and pale indigo. The cool white petals on the current flowers don't vary much, only looking slightly more transparent in the mornings if the sun filters through them. Their aroma, however, becomes increasingly difficult to escape from, and over the years has become inseperable from the January gloom.
The weekly equivalent of January gloom - Sunday night before work on Monday morning - deepens the effect. Gathering together bits & pieces to take to work as part of Monday's lunch is never the most pleasant of weekend tasks, even the most exciting sandwich with the freshest fillings cannot compete with the most humdrum political biographies Wikipedia can offer. Thankfully, once Monday the working day is over, Monday's chores can begin - and being Monday, this means the big shop for food. Thankfully, it also turns into the big shop for T-shirts, jewellery, and, on occasion, flowers. So long as they don't smell of January.
Hyacinths first came into our home and our noses about five years ago. Having never bought a plant in a pot, I decided I was now far enough away from my teenage years to buy one for myself without embarassment. I chose blue flowers, which turned out to be a beautiful striped mix of pale blue, wedgewood blue, and pale indigo. The cool white petals on the current flowers don't vary much, only looking slightly more transparent in the mornings if the sun filters through them. Their aroma, however, becomes increasingly difficult to escape from, and over the years has become inseperable from the January gloom.
The weekly equivalent of January gloom - Sunday night before work on Monday morning - deepens the effect. Gathering together bits & pieces to take to work as part of Monday's lunch is never the most pleasant of weekend tasks, even the most exciting sandwich with the freshest fillings cannot compete with the most humdrum political biographies Wikipedia can offer. Thankfully, once Monday the working day is over, Monday's chores can begin - and being Monday, this means the big shop for food. Thankfully, it also turns into the big shop for T-shirts, jewellery, and, on occasion, flowers. So long as they don't smell of January.
