Fragrance Quote November 22nd, 2011 from Dumb foxglove: and other stories By Annie Trumbull Slosson

Fragrance Quote November 22nd, 2011 from Dumb foxglove: and other stories By Annie Trumbull Slosson

Perhaps to you there are no mysteries in the wild flowers. They are so simple, so fair, seen at a glance, passed by, or gathered and thrown aside. But to us there were such strange puzzles there. In the spring, when the little linnaea crept over the ground and lifted its pink bells on slender hair-like stems, there came to us from it always the same fragrance, a subtle perfume we could not define. We were sure no other blossom, no other thing on earth, held that odor; and yet it brought us memories, was linked with something we could not recall; it was full of association, but with what? Where had we ever before breathed that aroma of spice, of sweetness, that it should bring us that strange feeling—half sadness, half joy, a memory so like a hope?

And the colors of the flowers—they surely held a meaning if we could but catch it. The speedwell's gentle blue, the bear-plum's pale yellow, the buttercup's polished gold, the aster's lavender and mauve and purple, the cardinal-flower's vivid red, the crimson pink of the wild rose — we knew them all, and almost understood them. One touch, one word, to help us, and the whole world of color would fall into harmony. I think my little girl understood these flower tints better than I did; perhaps because she did not hear or speak as others hear and speak her eyes saw more than most, and she would hold a brightly tinted blossom and gaze into its blue or pink or yellow with such deep content in her strange eyes that I felt she was learning much of the meaning it held.