Canto

Yes, I know, we have been manipulated long enough to pay attention to this date, the fourteenth of February. And, yes, I know, we abhor corny lines and sticky declarations of affection when we feel no real sign of it. Still, there is always something, somehow, that catches our attention and let us remember our pure feelings for somebody today, apart for our beloved ones, of course.
When I saw this bouquet, few moments ago, I had to think about an amazing American singer and the deep impact she unwittingly had in my life. Two of her songs accidentally reached my ears in two pivotal moments of my existence and left an indelible mark. Her words supported and sustained me in such an intimate way that I can only celebrate the unlimited power a song can have, as a pure message to humankind, when all the ingredients merge in sheer bliss. In her first song she sang about the Greatest Love Of All, her second one was I Will Always Love You. She passed away few days ago and I bow to her accomplishments and complex mission on Earth.

Simonetta Ronconi

Dispassion

Vondelpark, the green heart of Amsterdam, has always a story to tell and today, a glorious winter day, it allowed me to discover this elegant hydrangea, covered in snow but serene and graceful as if it were still in bloom. I admired its shape and perfect snow hat and marveled at the delicate nuances Mother Nature gives its petals in every phase of its life. Later I promised myself that I would look up for its meaning since I know that each flower has a specific connotation, according to Victorian floriography. The language of flowers was at that time a means of communication in which various flowers and floral arrangements were used to send coded messages, allowing individuals to express feelings which otherwise could not be spoken. Few months ago I was introduced to this specific code while reading a novel written by Vanessa Diffenbaugh, The language of flowers. Her first novel. Usually I read essays and leave novels aside but this book was a cherished present and I read it in one go. Great.
Well, to my great disappointment hydrangea stands for dispassion, i.e. the state or quality of being unemotional or emotionally uninvolved but if you look at my picture you might actually accept this explanation in a positive way. The hydrangea dispassion and detachment is exactly what makes it beautiful and divine.
Victoria, Vanessa Diffenbaugh main character, finds out soon enough that the same flower can have quite different meanings and this reminds us of the arbitrary use of definitions. A hydrangea is a hydrangea is a hydrangea.

Simonetta Ronconi

The Flax

My gift for the New Year, and precisely for the Winter Solstice which took place on the 22nd of December 2011, is a fairy tale by Hans Christian Andersen: The Flax.
It is an amazing story with a profound meaning that will certainly inspire you.
My first magic encounter with the flax took place some years ago among the hills of Chantilly, France, of all places. I had never seen flax fields before in my life and all of sudden, while riding in a car on a hill top, my sight was inundated by a sea of fragile and delicate blue flowers stretching on several hills. An amazing emotion!
One day, not so long ago, I was looking for an image for or information on “il lino” the flax and I stumbled upon a lovely website with the story of the famous Danish author.

Enjoy your reading and Happy New Year!

Simonetta Ronconi

And if you feel like listening to the Italian version of this story, just click on the links below

Il lino – HC Andersen – narrated by Simonetta Ronconi Part 1

Il lino – HC Andersen – narrated by Simonetta Ronconi Part 2

Pearls

Pearl strings and webs, I thought such things existed only in fairy tales books but last week I was glad to have my first close encounter with some of them. I was strolling in an old fortified city in The Netherlands, Heusden and for the first time in years the country was covered in the thickest fog I have ever seen. Saturday morning is usually quiet there but it was even quieter then. The old city was silent and it seemed almost empty. Those tiny water drops, nicely assembled on the spider webs, were trembling in the gentle wind; I feared they would fall apart any moment. It was difficult to part from them. I knew it is something you do seldom witness if you live a city. Their impermanence made them perfect, a gift for the lucky passersby. The coat of arms of Heusden is a wheel or a spinning wheel. I just adore to discover these “thin connecting threads” when I visit new places and weave my web of associations and meaningful surprises.

Simonetta Ronconi

Heavenly blue

There is something mysterious about this stunning flower, the Ipomoea. Its twisting habit, its daily dance with the sun and the moon, has always captured my attention, wherever I happen to find it. It is so tender and yet so determined in its stern ritual, that Carl Linnaeus, the XVIII century botanist, included it in his Horologium Florae, the flower clock.
On a splendid island in the middle of the Adriatic sea I was offered a magnificent view. While walking in a tiny alley in the scorching sun of the early afternoon, just behind an unsuspected corner, I saw a huge and lush blanket of heavenly blue ipomoeas covering an abandoned backyard and cascading on the neighbors’ fence and gate. I was transfixed by their richness and I could not understand how such delicate flowers could stand that temperature and parade their beauty with such a superior attitude. The following days I would pass by just to marvel at its twisting in the evening and early in the morning.
What a lovely memory.

Simonetta Ronconi