Columbine

If you google columbine, you will find article after article about the mass shooting that occurred in a town by that name in 1999.  Obviously, that tragedy is forever ingrained in our collective memory.  I can now add another way that I am saddened by it . . . it has supplanted the "other" definition of columbine.  That of a fascinating flower.

Perfect for cottage and woodland gardens, old-fashioned columbines are available in almost all colors of the rainbow. Intricate little flowers, they are most commonly a combination of red, peach, and yellow but also blues, whites, pure yellows, and pinks; they look almost like folded paper lanterns.

Folded paper lanterns!  Could that be true?

What do you think?  Intricate is certainly an appropriate descriptor.  I would also add delicate.  Maybe even angelic or ephemeral.

I have white columbines and pinkish columbines.  They are in a backyard perennial garden, a place I like to sit on a hot summer evening, as it is comfortably shaded at that time.  A glass of white wine, a good novel, and (if I'm lucky) my cat . . . all make for a lovely way to end the day.  Now compare this scene to the nightmare that Columbine became.  I do not think the difference could be more stark.

Today I am in love with the other side of tragedy.  I am in love with intricate folded paper lanterns, a delicacy of nature.  The columbines are a reminder of our fragility, our ephemeral beauty, and our resilience.  No matter how harsh the winter, my columbines return each spring, stronger and more beautiful than they were the year before.  It is important that we do not lose sight of the beautiful side of things, something I have to remind myself of daily.  Do you?