This was written after spending time with Gilda who loves pressing flowers. When around her I  always take notes..


Delicate things

By Bella


I see you admiring the book marks dear. Why yes, I made them myself and they sell rather quickly. Do you know anything of…no, not making bookmarks dear. Of the process of flower pressing? If you look carefully you will see that those are pressed flowers. Ah, you thought they were small pictures eh? No child, I rather enjoy pressing flowers. It is a hobby of mine.

Come sit next to Aunty Bella and allow me to show you something.  When I first started pressing flowers I used the petals, usually they were of the bigger variety, or ones that I could hold in between my fingers and  press in between tissue paper. Take a look. Do you see the flowers clearly? Now take a look at these. Notice the difference? The flowers themselves and the insects are smaller and more intricate. The body of that butterfly was made out of a seed I picked up while weeding the garden. It’s antenna made of blades of grass I cut to the shape and size I required.

The wings, oh I never kill any living creatures for my bookmarks. The wings are those of insects I found on my window sill. I use tweezers to handle the delicate parts of discarded flowers and weeds. Oh yes, I use everything I can find in my garden and home. Everything that is besides the dead bodies of the bees or flies themselves. Why do I do it? Well certainly not to make a quick buck that I can tell you.

I like the idea, child, that life continues. Yes there is death and all manner of calamities, but life simply goes on whether we are there or not. So if we are to remain here it’s best we give it a good go don’t you think? Flower pressing is time consuming. Although I must confess I love seeing the expression on the faces of those who look at my small creations. “It’s so beautiful Bella…’ they all seem to say with a bit of awe.  Beauty, child, can be found anywhere – if you know how to look. And it can be recreated time and time again, one thing becoming another until it turns into what you see before you. Something small and delicate – so easily mistaken and taken for granted.

Almost like the heart of a man if you will. Ask anyone who has been married for years on end and they will say – when days are hard and anger is on your mind, it’s best to look for the small things, small acts of kindnesses, minuscule things you love about the person for who you are sharpening the axe. Look at the way he twitches his feet and sways them from side to side when a silly song plays. Or perhaps the wrinkles around his eyes when he always calls for you. Like flower pressing, love is an expression of creativity. The hearts of men and women turn bleak when they forget to play.

Would you like a cup of tea deary? Yes? Well then get into the kitchen and brew two cups. I will get the cake ready and if you like.

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