an introduction.

I love flowers; I am drawn to them. Of course, when they smell delicious it's an added bonus and their petals feel great between my fingers or grazing my upper lip. But I find them more visually appealing than anything. I allow my grandmother to get me a subscription to Martha Stewart Living every year simply so I can see a dozen different flowers of the same shade pinned to a cork board.

(image courtesy of marthastewartweddings.com)

There is one flower in particular that fascinates me, however, because of how common it is: the carnation. It doesn't make sense. The main purpose of this flower is to be sold at supermarkets and bodegas where "fresh" isn't a word used too often. They are an impulse buy, a way to say sorry when you're not really that sorry, the peanut in a can of mixed nuts.

What I find most interesting about this flower, however, is my inability to imagine it in the wild. Seriously, have you ever stumbled on a field of fully grown carnations? Can you imagine if a gust of wind blew through them? Oh, the awkward flailing that would ensue. None of their bulbous joints bending freely with what nature has wrought. I do an impression of how I think it must look when a carnation blows in the wind. If you're reading this, you've probably been lucky enough to see it.

In summary: I like flowers. I think about them a bunch.