Even though Easter came early this year I enjoyed a vase were filled with inexpensive grocery store roses. There was one bloom that captured attention as its buttermilk yellow petals slowly unfurled into a glorious petticoat of tie-dyed sherbet hues, over the course of a week.
At breakfast each morning my elegant companion reminded me of the first time I was allowed to cut a few lilies my father had grown from seed.
We placed each stalk in a tall water glass. I was enchanted by the sophisticated lily perfume, and the impetous falling beads of rusty pollen.
I suspect my father's passion for growing backyard dahlias, lilies, and bearded iris has greatly influenced my selection of floral needlepoint canvases. I really enjoy the challenge of stitching the depth and arch of each petal, straining to go beyond graphic design toward realism.
I also prefer stitching a flurry of ragged, ruffled edges, rather than the sturdy honey-comb, tubular petals of a Pom Pom dahlia. (Irregularity seems less "commercial flower industry" to me.)
One of my greatest successes is a canvas I embroidered almost six years ago. Here is a photograph of the front side of the finished pillow.
Though the original design encased the full blown rose within a nosegay surround of large leaves, I clipped away all periphrey foliage before I turned the raw edges underneath the rose.
The flower is inserted into former pieces of a recently purchased $16.00 scarf which has been machine quilted. It is surrounded by hand-sewn lilac China silk binding, undulating with imperfections, just like all of us.
The reverse side of this lush silky cushion features another heart shaped pocket. It is adorned with a black beaded treble clef.
The recipient told me she is returning to private practice as a therapist, a decision which makes "her heart sing with joy." I hope the musical notation will bring a smile to her face each day!