Columbine

Day 231: A very "grandmotherly" flower, Columbine always calls up images of old-fashioned sitting rooms and parlours in my mind, with delicate crocheted antimacassars, leather-bound books and lamplight rounding out the scene. An air of nostalgia surrounds the spurred flowers, as if alongside a vase filled with such fragile grace, a calling card from an afternoon guest might not seem out of place. Columbine is a flower which invites you to tea, demands that your napkin be spread upon your lap and that you adhere to the social niceties of conversation. It brooks no common gossip, no harsh language or vulgarity. No improprieties can be uttered in the presence of Dame Columbine.