Photos // Tea Stains, Tears, And Memories.

"If you love a flower, don't pick it up. Because if you pick it up it dies and ceases to be what you love. So if you love a flower, let it be. Love is not about possession. Love is about appreciation." 

I have a confession to make ... I like to press flowers. There we go, I've said it. To a lot of people it can seem incredibly naff and slightly granny-ish, which is in fact an understandable assumption to make as there is a lot of awful pressed flower art around, however I honestly don't care. I've always found the process itself to be a rather beautiful one and lately its something that I've been quite inspired by. As a child I remember my Grandma teaching me how to press flowers, and it was something that at the time I was amazed by. I would wander around her garden collecting suitable flowers, then we would carefully place them amongst the pages of one of her old "heavy" books, and as if by magic a month later they would be completely squished and feel like fine delicate paper. I think there's a beauty in the simplicity of it all, the idea of hiding a precious flower between the pages of a book, where it remains concealed within until all of its moisture is dried out. Its essence slowly being absorbed into the letters printed upon the pages, infusing itself amongst tea stains, tears, and more importantly memories. If your lucky you'll be like me and open a book a year later to surprisingly have a flower fall out at your feet. Its one of those simple but special life moments. Unexpected beauty.

That's what happened to me today. And it was lovely.