#beautiful phlox flowers

[whatnext10]

It’s the First Day of Spring

Spring Vibrations Today is officially the first day of spring for 2024. Here in central Florida signs of spring started about a month ago with some early blooming wildflowers and the occasional clouded sulfur butterfly. By now our iconic spring flowers, the Drummond’s phlox (Phlox drummondii), are popping up everywhere that there is open ground and plenty of sun. It always makes me happy to see…

[margocooper]

Флокс растопыренный " Блю Парфюм''. Phlox divaricata 'Blue Perfume'.

[kittryn]

Purple Beauty

[f-l-o-w-e-r-138]

Phlox drummondii.

[pharaohgargamel]

Доброе утро всем!

Счастливого, доброго и радостного дня!✨😊😸

---------

Good morning everybody!

Happy, good and joyful day!✨😊😸

[intothewild9]

Emerald Blue Creeping Phlox

📷 Photo by Karen Reiser

[harshserenity]

I work in a garden center. I get to see some beautiful things

[headspace-hotel]

Today I saw a liverwort for the first time!

I stood and watched a little heron perched on a tree and saw the most brilliant, jewel-like metallic blue and green dragonfly with wings the velvety black of the night sky.

The ironweed is blooming in rich royal purple, jewelweed in vivid orange, wingstem in bright sunny yellow, and cardinal flower in unbelievably vivid scarlet. Yellow goldenrod, magenta phlox, white Virginia clematis. Meadows and streambanks along the hiking trails are rainbowed with wildflowers. I appreciate wildflowers individually, but placed together their bright colors are a whole other tier or beauty.

There's a spot with a little meadow full of milkweed and the monarch butterflies have a breathless majesty that never goes away no matter how often I see one.

Walking home I heard a chorus of frogs and stopped for a while to listen to them.

Somehow I'm most excited by far about the liverwort.

[flowerishness]

Phlox paniculata (garden phlox)

As regular visitors to this blog may remember, my house is up for sale. Unfortunately, It hasn't sold yet but this gives me an opportunity to say a long, loving goodbye to a garden that has given me so much pleasure.

This species of Phlox is a perennial and it's been putting out these beautiful pink flowers for years. I'm planning to dig up a chunk, put it in a pot and see if it will grow on a balcony. When I sell, I'll look for a place that get's the morning sun. I think my pink garden phlox would prefer that.

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 3: The Summer Has to End Someday

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy.  This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter three of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Drinking, Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect.  Reader is occasionally described as "curvy." If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

*********************

Philadelphia 1935

"Sit still." You say, dipping your brush gently in the small pot of water at your knee, before stroking it through your paints and placing it against the pad of watercolor paper in your lap.

It was a beautiful day at Fairmount Park. Children ran across the grassy fields flying kites and avoiding the outstretched hands of their mothers, while couples lounged on blankets with picnic baskets overflowing with sandwiches and champagne. The sun was sending gilded light across the pond that gently rippled with the breeze that brushed through your hair, pulling it across your rosy cheeks that blushed under Ben's gaze.

It was your 16th birthday and despite your mother's insistence to take you shopping in the busy stores that lined the streets downtown, you had refused, choosing rather to come to the park and prepare your mind for the party that would follow this evening. You had already glimpsed the abomination of purple tulle that your mother expected you to wear and you hoped that a quiet afternoon in the park would wipe the monstrosity from your memory.

At least before you were squeezed into said dress later that evening.

"I’m bored." Ben stated, leaning back on his elbows where he was sprawled next to you in the lush grass that was no doubt staining the light blue dress that clung to your body. One you had chosen for yourself that accentuated the way you looked, rather than hid it as the other dresses your mother bought for you. However, when Ben came to pick you up this morning your mother had insisted you bring a coat, despite it being the middle of summer. You hadn't missed the flash of anger in Ben's eyes when she wrapped the coat around your shoulders to hide your curves. The same coat that Ben immediately removed when you walked out the door and threw over the wrought iron fence that surrounded the front of your home, before looping his arm in his to direct you toward the park.

"It was you who said you wanted me to paint you." You sigh, looking up at your friend.

Ben's navy suit jacket was open, the buttons of his matching vest and white shirt underneath strained as his muscular shoulders pulled against them and made your breath catch as your eyes traced them. There was a pale pink phlox flower in his front jacket pocket, one you stuffed there earlier despite the roll of his eyes. You had wanted some contrast between his suit and the color of the flower, and despite Ben's annoyance, he obliged you as he always did.

"I was hoping there would be less clothing involved." Ben grins at you.

"You know, no other gentleman speaks to me the way you do."

"I didn't know you considered me a gentleman y/n. I thought that you knew me better than that." His grin quickly shifts into a mischievous smirk that makes you bite the inside of your cheek and turn back to the page.

A year had passed since Ben got you watercolor paints and ignited a unquenchable passion for painting. Something about the way the colors ran together soothed you, the gentle stroke of the brush against the page calming the usual frustrations of your life.

One of which was sitting beside you, looking entirely too attractive for someone who'd just rolled out of bed and was wearing the exact outfit he had been wearing when he snuck through your window last night. This morning he had crawled out the window and rang the doorbell at the front of your home, acting as if he'd been up for hours.

You pause at the thought of last night. Ben was leaving for boarding school number seven at the end of the week, but the way he looked when he showed up the night before, rumpled and smelling of cheap whiskey, meant that he and his father had another disagreement. Despite his inability to talk about what happened, if it was your burden to bear, to always be there for him, you welcomed it.

"Hey." Ben's hand comes down on your arm to draw your attention back to him.

You look back up at him. "Hmm?"

"What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He turns his head to the side to examine you.

"Thinking about the party."

"Oh right. Should be fun. Can't believe I received an invitation. I thought your mother would have burned it-"

"She tried." You smirk. "I snatched it from the fireplace just for you."

"How thoughtful."

“Selfish really. There’s no way I’m going through one of those parties without you again.” You snort, catching his emerald gaze.

“The Christmas party was not that bad-“

“Says the guy who got drunk on eggnog and then preceded to flirt with a potted plant!”

“That potted plant was more interesting than that idiot How-“ Ben’s next words are cut off.

"Y/n!" You hear someone shout from behind you.

Howard Stine struts towards the two of you across the sidewalk, where a few other boys stand in a tight group. He’s wearing a sand colored suit and vest, with the chain of his golden pocket watch catching in the warm sunlight with each stride forward. At Howard’s appearance, Ben sits up from his relaxed position, leaning towards you.  

“Speak of the devil.” You hear him mutter.

Ben nods his head towards the group of boys, who nod back in greeting. Ben was more popular than you. Your own circle of friends was reduced to Ben, your housekeeper, the gardener, and a handful of girls your own age that only wished to talk about how close you and Ben were and once they realized you were just friends, they then proceeded to ask you if you could set them up.

As if you would ever set them up with him, you were still trying to set yourself up with him.

A few of the group of boys you recognize as the sons of your father's friends and others boys you'd seen Ben stumble around with on the streets after a night at the bar around the corner. You watch Ben's left hand go to the flower in his front jacket pocket and crunch it in his fist before the others can see it.

The action made you smile to yourself, because despite Ben not wanting them to see him with the flower, he had still allowed you to place it there.

Howard blocks the rays of sun above you so that you don't have to squint up at him. He wasn't terrible looking. Howard was your height, with reddish brown hair that was slicked back over his head and he had a dusting of cinnamon colored freckles on his cheeks, but he was nowhere near as tall or broad as Ben. Where Ben was muscular, Howard was lanky, his hands small and sweaty. Ben moved with a grace and elegance that you couldn't comprehend, while Howard plodded along, stumbling on solid ground. Howard's pointed chin was nothing like the strong jaw of Ben's rugged face. Something that you studied whenever Ben was with you and you spent several nights devoted to capturing in your sketchbook.

"Hi Howard. How are you?" You smile at him, brushing back your hair from your face with your free hand.

Howard's eyes move from Ben to you, taking in your close proximity. Ben's hand was still touching your arm, and the tip of your knee an inch away from the outer edge of Ben's thigh. In fact, Ben had leaned towards you so close when Howard came over that his breath rustled through your hair.

"Good. What are you doing?” Howard moves a hand through his hair to tousle the reddish waves.

“Ben is obliging me. It’s a beautiful day and I wished to capture it.” You wave the brush in your right hand for emphasis.

“Ah.” Howard squints at the watercolor paper. “Well it’s certainly interesting. I didn’t know you liked to paint.”

“She likes all kind of things Howie.” Ben responds with a smirk, his voice dripping with suggestion.

Your eyes flash a warning to where Ben sits. He’s withdrawn his hand, but he’s still leaning close enough to you that you can smell the spicy scent of his shampoo and cologne.

It reminds you of this morning when you woke up and realized that Ben had pulled your back into his chest while he was sleeping. When his arm was curled around your waist as he buried his head in your hair and muttered something in his sleep that you couldn’t understand. The thought makes you flush bright red, remembering how wonderful and intimate it felt to be there.

Howard ignores him. “We're all going to go to Wallman's on the corner for shakes, I was wondering if you wanted to come?" He doesn't acknowledge Ben.

“Well-“ You begin to say, taking in the beauty of the pond and your paint stained hands.

The truth was you didn’t want to go, you wanted to sit there in the grass forever with Ben, where you couldn’t tell if you were warm because you were under the golden light of the sun or under Ben's gaze.

“She’s busy.” Ben says before you can finish your sentence.

Howard’s smile becomes tight. “I think I was asking her.”

Ben shrugs. “And I think I just gave you an answer.”

"Why don't you just-" Howard begins, but Ben is already up off the ground, pressing his chest against Howard's, his green eyes blazing in the light of the sun.

"Why don't I just what Howie?" Ben's voice is low, the deep rumble stirring something in the pit of your stomach.

You loved a lot of things about Ben, but his temper was not one of them. Ben rarely lost his temper with you, yes you did annoy him and he would lose his patience, but he often turned that anger into teasing.

"Ben." You stand, leaving your watercolor pad on the ground, so you can place your hand on Ben's shoulder. It was supposed to be a gentle reminder. Ben knew that you were more than capable of making your own decisions, but you couldn't help but wonder why Ben had responded the way he did.

Is he jealous?

Ben looks down at you with a frown, but finally he sighs and takes a step back.

Howard's eyes are narrowed at where Ben now stands to your right, Ben's arms crossed over his muscular chest, but Howard's gaze shifts back to you expectantly.

"Howard that's really sweet, but it's getting late and I have to get ready for the party tonight." You force a giggle to ease the tension in Howard's shoulders. "You are coming right?"

"Of course." He smiles. "I was hoping that you'd save a dance for me."

"She-" Ben begins to say, but you elbow him in the side, hard.

"Of course I will."

“Great. I guess I’ll see you tonight.” He frowns one more time at Ben before turning back to the group of boys on the sidewalk and leaving with them.

Ben stands there for a minute watching him go.

"You should try to be nicer to him." You say, tugging on the sleeve of Ben’s jacket to grab his attention.

"Why?" Ben snorts.

"Because-" You shrug. "He's sweet and he’s interested in me. I’d hope that you two would get along.”

Ben rolls his eyes. "You could do better."

"Last time I checked the suitors aren't exactly lining up. Not to mention you tend to scare them all off." You wave a hand around you for emphasis. "And I'm not getting any younger."

"Neither am I, but you don’t see me settling for Howard Stine.”

"I didn't realize he was your type." You snort rolling your eyes at him as you sit back down in the grass and pick up your painting again. "I haven't seen you courting anyone recently."

You try to keep the happiness from your voice at the thought. Ben hadn't been trying to chase after as many girls in the past few months as he had previously. And you wondered if his father was trying to arrange him with anyone. If Ben’s mother had still been alive you knew that she would have found someone suitable for Ben, but you’d heard your father say something to your mother behind a closed door that Ben’s father had asked about one of the daughters of his work colleagues.

The thought makes something in your chest tighten to the point of snapping. You hated the idea of watching Ben court someone else, watching someone else kiss him, run their fingers through his hair, and hated the thought that Ben would spend the night with someone else other than you.

Of course when he spent the night with you, all you did was talk, but it was possible that Ben might find that sense of companionship with a lover rather than you.

And then where would you be? Alone.

Ben reclines back as he did before, shaking his hair out behind him, and closing his eyes. It's lighter in the sun, more of a honeyed brown than the usual oak. "I leave in a week."

"Hasn't stopped you in the past." You mutter more to yourself than him.

"Maybe nothing has caught my eye." He opens one eye to study you.

"Hmm."

“Or perhaps I’d much rather spend my last days of freedom with you.” He flirts with a wide smile.

“Last days of freedom?” You laugh, ignoring his tease. “We both know you’ll probably be back within the month.”

Instead of laughing, Ben’s smile fades into a frown and you wonder if he’s thinking of his father.

“Ben I’m sorry I didn’t mean-“

Ben shrugs it off and pulls out a silver flask from his jacket pocket. As soon as he opens it, the sour smell of whiskey floats through the air before he takes a swig. He holds it out to you, but you wave it away, focusing back on your paper.

"So if he's the one, why didn't you go with him to Wallman's? You made up a bullshit excuse that you had to go home." Ben takes another pull from the flask, but you can't shake the shift in his tone.

"I wanted to finish painting." You say to avoid the truth, that you didn’t want to leave him, because you could tell he was still upset over whatever he and his father talked about last night. “But I do need to go home. Mother is no doubt waiting with a horde of maids to make me presentable.”

You frown to yourself imagining next few hours where you would be slathered in creams, your hair tugged and swept up over your head, your body scrubbed almost painfully, and finally the corset that would cut off your circulation and make it impossible to breathe.

You wondered if any other girls your age were subject to such torture.

“Just admit it y/n, you find Howard as boring as a sack of flour.”

“He’s from a good family, he’s a gentleman. My mother would be pleased-“ You start to say, defending Howard even though you didn’t like him as much as you liked Ben.

“Your mother would be pleased with a cactus as long as it meant getting you out of her sight.” Ben snaps back.

His sharp words sting against your skin and you drop your eyes to the paper again, welcoming the silence that follows. Because he was right.

Your mother thought you were a disappointment. She had started comparing you to your sister-in-law who was flawless, effortlessly beautiful and graceful. Your mother voiced her disapproval many ways with disapproving looks, snide comments on what you wore, how you looked... It wasn’t for lack of trying. You did whatever she asked but each time it was never good enough for her. You weren’t enough. And it was something you kept close to your heart. Ben knew that better than anyone.

That’s why his words hurt so much.

“Sweetheart I’m sorry-“

“It’s okay.” The tears that burn in your eyes smear the image of the page in your lap.

“Y/n please look at me.”

You don’t raise your head. “I should go. She’ll be mad if I’m late-“ You begin to put away your things.

Ben’s fingertips come to your chin, tilting it back to look at him once more.  He looks sorry. His green eyes are paler now, like clover, wide and open, his mouth pulled down into an apologetic frown.

“Please don’t go. I’m sorry. Just stay a little longer.”

You sit there for a moment, his hand cupping your cheek and as a tear falls Ben brushes it away with his thumb. The gesture is gentle and surprising. Ben tolerated the occasional hug, but this was more intimate. It made your breath catch.

“Okay.” You whisper.

Ben relaxes and drops his hand from your face, but he’s still watching you. You know he’s trying to think of something to say to make you feel better, but when he can’t come up with anything, he reaches over and plucks another flower from the bush on his left, before stuffing it in his front jacket pocket.

It enough to make you smile and this time he returns it, understanding that he's been forgiven. You allow the warmth of his gaze seep into your skin and you bask in the warm glow of his smile.

***********************

Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to be added to my taglist for this series, let me know :)

Taglist: @roseblue373 @anundyingfidelity @cheynovak

[whatnext10]

A Field Full of Phlox Flowers is Quite Beautiful

A Field Full of Phlox Flowers is Quite Beautiful follows up on a previous post that showed several color types of phlox flowers. It shows an open field that is filled with these colorful flowers.

Field of Phlox Since I showed everyone a variety of the Drummond’s phlox flowers (Phlox drummondii) in yesterday’s post and ended the post with asking you guys to imagine a field or roadside full of them, I thought today would be a good day to show you what it actually looks like. This field is not far from my home just before you get into the little town nearest me. Every year the roadside and…

[vandaliatraveler]

An Easter bouquet of some of Central Appalachia's finest spring wildflowers, courtesy of Core Arboretum at West Virginia University.

From top: cutleaf toothwort (Cardamine concatenata); Virginia spring beauty (Claytonia virginica); Carolina spring beauty (Claytonia caroliniana); sessile trillium (Trillium sessile); twinleaf (Jeffersonia diphylla); immature golden ragwort (Packera aurea); dwarf larkspur (Delphinium tricorne); Virginia bluebells (Mertensia virginica), including a rare white-flowered variation; woodland phlox (Phlox divaricata), also known as wild blue phlox; harbinger of spring (Erigenia bulbosa), also known as pepper and salt; Dutchman's breeches (Dicentra cucullaria); downy yellow violet (Viola pubescens); yellow trout lily (Erythronium americanum), also known as dog-tooth violet; and celandine poppy (Stylophorum diphyllum), also known as wood poppy.

[angronsjewelbeetle]

Another one because fuck it it's nearly midnight and these are FUN DAMMIT Lmao floriography interest coming in clutch here

What kind of flowers do (some of) the primarchs gift you ~♡

Includes: Corvus, Magnus, Vulkan, Fulgrim, Jaghatai, Angron, Konrad, Ferrus, Lorgar, Sanguinius, Dorn

Corvus: dark red roses and gloxina. dark red roses symbolise loyalty, love and eternal beauty, and gloxina represents love at first sight.

Magnus: rainbow roses, and glowing primroses. Roses because they're romantic and they're rainbow because "Magnus how did you-" "-I have my ways, my dear. Do you like them?", and primroses symbolise youthful love, a representation of how he feels a little more young when he's with you. How are the primroses glowing. Magnus please tell me they aren't deadly. Please.

Vulkan: pink roses and violets, they're a little singed on some of the petals and stems, but they're still pretty. Pink roses because they symbolise both romantic love and platonic - you are both his best friend and his greatest treasure - the light of his heart, and also sweetness. Violets symbolise faithfulness. Enough said.

Fulgrim: Hibiscus and morning glory. Morning glory symbolise affection and determination and the hibiscus, beauty and happiness - your beauty brings him such a profound sense of happiness, he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Ferrus: White roses and hydrangeas. White roses symbolise new beginnings and wisdom, and hydrangeas thankfulness and understanding.

Lorgar: lilies, phlox and gladiola. Lilies symbolise majesty and virtue, phlox unanmity and harmony. Also I'm pretty sure they're both toxic, and yet, they're beautiful. Gladiolus symbolise strength of character and moral integrity.

Konrad: a handful of Venice mallows with some of the roots still on and a single tuberose with...a...bite? Taken out of it? Venice mallows symbolise delicate, fleeting beauty, and tuberose symbolise dangerous pleasure. Konrad thought the mallows were pretty. The tuberose smelt nice. That's why Konrad ate it. It didn't taste as good as it smelt. Sorry, Konrad.

Khan: hyacinth and peonies. Hyacinths symbolise playfulness and peonies prosperity and compassion.

Sanguinius: bellflowers, sweet Williams and pansies. Bellflowers symbolise gratitude, sweet Williams symbolise gallantry and ask to "grant me a single smile", and pansies symbolise sweet thoughts.

Rogal: amaryllis, asters and false indigo. Amaryllis symbolise determination and creative achievement, asters symbolise elegance and patience - he will wait for you. He will always wait for you. - and false indigo symbolise immersion and intuition. He loves you. He truly does.

Angron: daffodils and lilacs, the stems are crushed, but the flowers themselves are unharmed. You do have to pry them from his hand though. Lilacs symbolise the first emotions of love and daffodils symbolise rebirth and new beginnings. They won't last that long with the mutilated stems, but they're lovely while they do.

[beesmiley]

You could have been no more than eight summers’ old, clutching your mother’s apron, eyebrows singed off by the fireball you’d unleashed into your neighbour’s rose bush. You were crying because the flowers were so beautiful, and you did not mean to destroy them. - Elminster’s Letter / God of Ambition epilogue

Gale never told Phlox about the rose bush story from his youth, but there's no denying that the most important rose in his life has been her. It has always been her. And like that destroyed rose bush, he hurt her too; in his ambitious chase for magic and knowledge, he unknowingly hurt the one who loved him most. But it was too late, he was gone. And like the burned petals of that rose bush, the memories of her were burned away from his mind by his new love, his Goddess. Decades passed and their paths crossed once more while on this newfound adventure they were thrust into. Memories were rekindled and his rose, although damaged and burned from her own adventures and misfortunes, continued to live amidst the flames with her love for him never faltering.

This scene and outfit combo were inspired by Elminster's letter in the God Gale epilogue, recalling the first time he met Gale as a child. I've seen many pieces of Gale pictured with roses. I'm really happy how this little idea turned out. 💜

[pharaohgargamel]

Доброе утро всем!

Позитивного, счастливого и хорошего дня!✨😺😉

----------------------

Good morning everybody!

Have a positive, happy and good day!✨😺😉

[konjaku]

夾竹桃[Kyōchikutō] Nerium oleander var. indicum

夾[Kyō] : To hold between; to be mixed

竹[Chiku] : Bamboo

桃[Tō] : Peach

Its name is the same as that in China. It is native to India and was introduced in the Edo period(1603-1868).

It is known to be deadly poisonous throughout, but on the other hand, is found everywhere because its beautiful foliage and flowers, strong vitality, and resistance to air pollution and disease make it a popular garden and greening plant.

Novelist 壇 一雄[Dan Kazuo] was fond of this flower, so the anniversary of his death, January 2, is called 夾竹桃忌. 忌[Ki] means anniversary of one's death. Incidentally, 桜桃忌 for Novelist 太宰 治[Dazai Osamu] is June 19. 桜桃[Ōtō] means cherry fruit. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kazuo_Dan

By the way, Fall phlox(Phlox paniculata) is called 草夾竹桃[Kusakyōchikutō].