My peonies have all faded to the softest peach and nude, petals strewn on the table and I leave them there, not ready to sweep them away. When you live with fresh flowers you're always aware of fading. It's deliciously sad to watch. There's a moment when the decay is utterly gorgeous and then it's gone.
And it's all over the city too. That deep and unshiftable summer has yet to hit. It still feels unreal; flimsy and delicate. And I find myself mistrusting the fleetingness of each beautiful day, waking up and a new flower in bloom and another one fading.
They all fade to pink and peach and eventually brown. And beneath it all - green, holding it all together. The steady one.
Shirts - Equipment | Bike - Beg Bicycles | Skimmers - Madewell | Interior - Lonny