This is part of a daily writing project in conjunction with photographer Sarah Tesar. For every day of May 2017 I will be writing a short piece inspired by Sarah’s daily photos as posted on her Instagram feed.

Photo © 2017 Sarah Tesar


Never been fan of a bouquet of flowers. With a variety of breeds, I mean. The fact that flowers are so individually unique somehow makes a bunch of one kind seem far more attractive.

And it’s a collective experience. You don’t find a wide mix of flowers together in one spot, in the wild. It’s a bed of roses, or a patch of daisies, or a delicious throng of lilac. And the more the merrier. You’d much rather lay in a field of poppies like Dorothy than be a kid in a flower store.

It’s such an overpowering sensory thing, too. To see a massive collection of one type of flower, bloomed fully in its rich colour(s)… You find yourself downright impressed by how many of them there are. As metropolitan people we find ourselves used to the picturesque notion of a single flower, as a gift, in a jar or in a child’s hand. Or maybe a dozen somethings in a bundle. At best someone might have a rich, thorough garden. And even that’s remarkable.

But a whole field? Of all one thing? Don’t you just want to run headfirst into it? Don’t you just want to bow at the feet of this great display and drink in the concentrated smell that you probably couldn’t escape without a strong breeze? And somehow, without touching any of it. It’s perfection. Unsullied; unpicked; unpotted. Nobody’s for the taking.

Just let those fields go.

© 2017 Andrew Hall Writes


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