Let me talk to you a little bit about flowers.
I'm going to try really hard not to sound like the crazy hippie that I am, but no promises....
The last two years, around this time in the spring semester, something happens to me. I go flower-crazy. I think it's spring fever, usually, that makes me angst to get out of the classroom, and the only thing that calms me down is studying flowers. If I'm in a bad mood, the immediate reaction is, "Oh, I must not have looked at enough pictures of flowers this week."
(Where? This book is the love of my life. Also on the internet, here, here, and here. Incidentally, I find I have a lot in common, ummm, personality-wise, with many flower-bloggers on the internet, so maybe this is a thing?)
I've tried to figure out the reasoning behind my sudden obsession. I mean, as a kid, I remember being all like, "Flowers are meh," because I thought it made me sound cool and tomboyish. Honestly though, I don't think I cared much for them.
So why like them now? Sure, they're beautiful. Is that it? Beautiful and fragile...maybe that's it? Hang on, I'm going to google the effects of smelling daffodils on mental moods....
Yep, I think it's probably scientific. Your sniffer cells are connected to your limbic system. Seems legit.
Anyways. I love flowers. I want to grow them. I'm not sure why, but they calm me down, slow me down, help me cope. Maybe it's the inherent beauty? The aromatherapy? Maybe the colors, shapes, and stuff I read about them form the perfect balance of aesthetic stimulus for my weirdly overloaded brain?