FLOWERS WORLD

These tiny flowers are beyond my powers of instagramming. Especially because I haven't ventured out into them yet, preferring the ever-changing view below.

On this solstice, with its rainbows and windstorms, power outtages and the long, dark, damp morning, I felt tucked quite literally into the deepest part of the earth. (I do live in a basement, but that isn't what I mean.) I woke before 6 am, in order to be awake for the actual solstice at 6:11, and couldn't help envisioning myself as a bulb of sorts, readying as placidly as possible for whatever comes next.

I've been thinking about the solstice of 2012 for over six years, ever since encountering Daniel Pinchbeck's 2012: The Return of Quetzalcoatl, in which he writes the following:

Perhaps undertaking the quest for prophetic knowledge, in itself, causes reality to shiver and shift, as new possibilities open like the petals of an extravagant, multidimensional flower.

As a species, we've long invested our powers of "prophetic knowledge" in plants. We trust that as we dig in compost or plant a seed or check the soil's moisture or watch the skies, we also guarantee the continuation of patterns we trust and rely upon. I know many of you will agree when I say that folks in the global North have generally divorced themselves from these patterns in recent history, and that many of our fears and our tragedies stem (yes, that is a pun) from the wound of that separation. That the patterns themselves have become less trustworthy is certainly salt in the wound, but I believe at base that we are an adaptable people.

. . . there's so much to write about this, but I'll rein it in and affirm my intention to remain attuned to Pinchbeck's "multidimensional flower" as it unfurls, and my excitement that so many individuals in my life are doing the same, in a multitude of ways.

After months of mailbox silence, I finally received my copy of Wilder Quarterly last week, and it's every bit as beautiful, as color-saturated, and as delightfully curated as I hoped it would be.

There's an article about the gardens of the original Catwoman, a poetic description of the famous moss gardens at Kokedera Temple in Kyoto, details about all the classic sweater types and a recipe for burnt oranges with rosemary. Not to mention the photos.

Wilder is not necessarily an exhaustive source of information, nor is it trying to sell you anything particular. It's not glossy, or matte, but somewhere in between. And it taught me just how geodes are made, which I think I've repeated to at least four people.

Late 1630s the Dutch economy went crazy, the market traded at astronomical prices tulips amounting without ever reaching the limit. People began to behave irrationally. Luxury homes were sold in exchange for a single bulb, and flowers were sold in exchange for the salary of fifteen.

A single bulb could be worth 1,000 florins (the average person in the Netherlands had an annual income of 150 florins). In 1635 they came to pay 100,000 guilders for 40 tulip bulbs. He even came to pay 5500 florins for a single bulb of Semper Augustus precious species.

This situation began to create a bubble in which prices rose and rose and never fell. The Dutch population is generated the illusion that the tulip market would always be a bull market. Such was the euphoria that was created a futures market where trading bulbs not collected yet, this business was called "windhandel" which translated means "air business!" All social status began investing in tulips flowers and disposing of their most basic, and even went into debt to acquire mortgaged tulips. There came a time when it is no longer exchanged bulbs but formed a real financial speculation through credit notes.

Well into 1637, speculators began to detect signs of exhaustion in the tulips flower market. On February 5, a batch of 99 great rarity tulips was sold for 90,000 florins. Investors decided to start selling and collecting profits. This attitude was quickly infected the rest of the market, generating a significant amount of supply of tulips that led to widespread panic in the country. In mid-February, the holders of bulbs bought at astronomical prices they met overnight with no buyer, was even worse for the most daring speculators who had signed futures contracts obliging them to buy the bulb at a much more higher than the market.

The bubble burst left much of ruined investors, as they had liquidated its assets to speculate tulips that ended without any value. He saved all the bubbles as more rational investors left the market just before it exploded, triggering panic in this way in the country. Since then Holland for years engulfed in a major economic recession caused by the tulip bubble.

On Wednesday I skipped out of the co-op in the middle of my shift and excitedly trailed Gayle through the aisles of Doran's, the wholesale florists' shop where we source our houseplants and cut blooms.


We inhaled a good deal of fresh chlorophyll and scooped up a big cart full of kalanchoe, ivy,  lady slippers, croton, little lemon cypress trees, ferns and a few wily bonzai, in addition to other things I've since forgotten. 


In this drab time of year, more temperate climates (like the one we seem to be moving toward) retain their green hues in mosses and grasses, but generally the outside world is gray//brown//beige during our Decembers.  Although everyone has killed at least one house-or-apartment-plant, they are really generally easy, and taking care of something so simple and beneficial certainly helps me feel more alive in wintertime.

If you're in need of some plants-of-the-house, let me know! I'll happily troll the aisles of Doran's for you, and I have a small stockpile of fancy pots as well. Email flowerscoutfarm@gmail.com with any inquiries or exclamations.