This post is an ode to the artichoke, queen of transformation and glorious weirdness.
Artichoke bushes grow through winter. The first buds appear in March and reach picking size in April or May. At that point the hearts are tender, sweet, and delicious, while the flower is still technically a bud. Let it grow only a little too far and it turns tough, fibrous, spiky, and dry. A few escaped us this year, so we let them bloom. After everything the artichoke moves through — from a lush green bush in early spring to buds we feast on in all sorts of wonderful dishes — the flower in full bloom is still pure magic.
Once again I have to talk about a colour my camera cannot carry. Again, I cannot quite capture the shade, the tone, or the way this purple plays. When I see the flower from a distance, it pulls me closer as if it has a private power, something you do not normally meet in nature: an unseen colour and an extraordinary texture.
That purple belongs in a story about a wizard, a Druid, a spell curling from his chimney. It is like the colour and radiance people use to describe the seventh chakra. “In Taoism, purple is associated with spiritual power and is used in healing and in connecting with the spiritual realm. The ‘violet flame’ is a high-frequency spiritual energy…”
That is exactly how this magnificent giant shines out of its completely dry base. And I am not the only one falling for its magnetism: the flower is absolutely rammed with buzzing visitors.
