Fleeting Beauty

Ephemeral: lasting for a very short time. 

The term 'ephemeral' most often refers to those plants of earliest springtime--the ones that appear before a canopy of leaves filters sunlight, creating the dappled shade of a summer woodland.

A month ago I went into the woods behind the stable, often several times each day, hoping to photograph and identify more of the delicate flowers which bloom, fade and disappear so quickly.

The Sunday mornings of my childhood were steeped in the poetry of the King James Bible which compares the passage of a lifetime to a flower of the field: 

"For the wind passeth over it, and it is gone; and the place thereof shall know it no more."

The wind was a constant presence during the chilly days of April, causing slender stems to shiver at the precise moment when I pressed the shutter, resulting in a blurred image. 

Fragile petals drifted to the ground and within mere days it was as though violets, woodland vetch, spring beauties had never been.

Poppies are not ephemeral in the sense of woodland plants, for although a single bloom may last only a few hours, the plant itself remains--leaves slowly going brown and crumpled as the seed heads mature into dry and rattling pods.

In my first Kentucky garden I sowed several varieties of heirloom poppies, collecting seed in late summer.  If a plant produced especially stunning blooms, I saved a few seed pods in a separate container. 

The dominant strain which has settled into my current garden is 'Lauren's Grape.' 

Last autumn I allowed seeds to fall where they might.  Usually I find that by mid-winter many have germinated.  This spring [this cold recalcitrant spring!] the poppies were so late to emerge I worried there would be none.  At last a few plants popped up, then another and another.

Working on the side porch this week, watering container plantings, potting on seedlings, I noted that the buds on two of the poppies were swelling, rising from their tucked down position on the stems.

On Monday morning early, I found the first blossom.

It rained during the day--brief gentle showers--and the wind whisked down from the ridge.

By mid-afternoon the poppy shattered, petals landing on the broad rough leaves of clary sage.

Rain drops on a newly opened poppy.

This morning [Friday, although my camera hadn't updated] I was greeted with four opening blossoms. 

I have gone out during the day to admire their delicate beauty.

 By morning these lovelies will have lived their brief span, and 'the place thereof shall know them no more.'

So many of the plants we cherish have a short season--a flare of beauty and color too quickly spent.

Perhaps they are most loved and most anticipated because we have them with us for so brief a time.