From “Gathering the Harvest in Societies and Shows” in Chrysanthemum (Botanical) by Twigs Way:
“With such a range of colours and shapes, and the lure of being able to develop even more, it was not long before the chrysanthemum came to the attention of the flower fanciers who were generally known into the nineteenth century as ‘florists’. Unlike the modern meaning of someone who will sell you a flower or deliver a whole bouquet, ‘florists’ and florists’ societies were then dedicated to the raising and showing of a limited number of flower types. In the eighteenth century, when the societies originated, these types were restricted to the auricula, carnation, polyanthus, ranunculus and tulip; in the late eighteenth century they were joined by the pink….
“By the time the chrysanthemum had become popular, however, this range of florists’ flowers had been expanded to include the anemone, hollyhock (surely a difficult flower to bring to a show table), pansy, picotee and latterly the dahlia, such that the inclusion of its autumnal cousin the chrysanthemum was almost inevitable. Nevertheless, in the early decades of the nineteenth century there was some reluctance to welcome the foreign chrysanthemum to the European florists’ table.
“By the late nineteenth century, the gardens of the working and middle classes in London and other large conurbations were suffering from the effects of smog and pollution — a combination of acids and blanketing soots that resulted in grey and grimy gardens. The chrysanthemum, suggested [James Shirley] Hibberd, would bring a golden cheer to these otherwise dull gardens at the worst time of year, when mists and the first coal fires of the season brought down the heavy pea soupers; and it was not just the garden that the chrysanthemums would enliven but the gardeners themselves…..”
From “The Red Chrysanthemum” by Nguyen Trai in The Heritage of Vietnamese Poetry, edited and translated by Huynh Sanh Thong:
Dawn’s glory is its color, musk its scent.
It’s born to rise above the vulgar throng.
It safeguards its vermilion, shuns all dust.
It owns jade’s toughness, flinches from no frost.
Its fragrance yields to none in royal parks.
Its glow outshines its friends by the east hedge.
Oh, may the Prince bestow his love and care!
It’ll break to fullest flower on Double Ninth.
Hello!
This is the last of four posts featuring photographs of mums and daisies from Oakland Cemetery’s gardens, that I took in late November and early December. The first post is Red Mums and Daisies (1 of 4), the second post is Red Mums and Daisies (2 of 4), and the third post is Red Mums and Daisies (3 of 4).
Many of the blooms in this post were photographed against memorial stones or stone-wall backgrounds; others — those toward the center — were shot where they gently trespassed among the two-tone leaves of some variegated irises I photographed a couple of years ago, included in my post Iris pallida ‘variegata’ from June 2023.
All these red flowers were especially fetching. Even though there are seventy-two photos across the four posts where I’ve shared them, I wouldn’t mind having a few more to share. Ah, well, I guess that’s why we have seasons: flowers come, flowers go, then once around they come back again.
Thanks for taking a look!
