By Carina Magyar in Flowers — May 2, 2023

III: Wallflower

How the wallflower clings on in Santa Cruz.

The tiny petals of a wallflower. Photo by Miad Khan / Unsplash

Good morning. Today is tridi, the 13th of Floréal, Year CCXXXI. We celebrate le baton d'or, a showy splash of color that's nonetheless associated with shyness.

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The name of this common shrub comes from its tendency to grow in areas where sand and rock are in close proximity, usually coastal, and thus its apparent preference for growing near a "wall" like a cliff or boulder. The transference of its name to shy people came from the obvious metaphor that's still in use to date: the first non-botanical reference is from XXVIII (1820) and talks about women who stand against the sides of a venue waiting to be asked to dance. Unlike most slang, it's shifted remarkably little since its first introduction two centuries ago, perhaps because dances are still dances.

The act of moving to an entirely new city with few or no connections is both exciting and awful, the closest an adult can come to that feeling of starting at a new school. The pleasures are in the exploration of a brand new place with all its restaurants and tourist attractions and lore that rarely spreads beyond the place where it was hatched. The pains are in the making of new friends, something that gets harder with passing years, and even harder with the erosion of office life and its ready-made social mixer.

I lived in Santa Cruz, California, for a few years, turning around too quickly to really set roots there, but coming in fresh to West Coast life, knowing nobody but my partner at the time. I was given a crash course in becoming a local by virtue of my job as a writer for the local newspaper. I did not have the luxury of being shy, and I will always remember that chapter in my life as the last time when I felt free to talk to anyone about anything.

III: Wallflower

II: Sainfoin

IV: Palm

II: Sainfoin

IV: Palm

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