I call them spring maidens, because for me this is who they are… those fragile, but also strong and certain of their desires and dreams… dressed in white and bright green, beautiful, similar, but never the same.
When in groups they seem to like each other, but in fact, one tries to outstand another. Do not even bow, when winds make them, the same. Spreading this whiteness around, but also… trying to look better than those on the right and left, and behind them… There are also those lonely ones, which prefer to stand up tall and straight on paths, under trees and hidden under fallen branches.
Who prefer to just be alone, with themselves, but most of them create amazing carpets. White and wavy. Beautiful.
Looking at them is such a huge inspiration. For weird stories, fantasy stories, for those about convents and those about running brides. About gods and goddesses which never forgot their servants… but also about farms of perfect feminines. About this weird, ideal womankind which has everything what definitions say.
Just look at them.
Anemones… windflowers… This year they appeared here late, but we had late winter, so no surprise. and I could spend hours just lying down on the wet moss and take photos of them. Because there is something calming and in the same time energizing in them. Something so magical. So wintery too…