The first thing I wanted to plant was a Frangipani.
They make the most perfect, white-floral candies,
Like the frosted flowers on a cake.
I encountered one in bloom in a
Trashy Thai restaurant parking lot, and it
Transported me to the realm of the gods.
Urban plants, they are always
Better than their surroundings, and
That honey-ginger whiteness is a vehicle to the divine.
I thought that “Frangipani” should be the
Ace of Cups in the perfume Tarot deck
In my mind, because its impish fruity whiteness
Opens your heart quicker than you can say
“Hawaiian vacation.”
The card would show a woman sunbathing in a
White bikini, on a bed of printer-paper petals,
The tips radiating from
Delicious yellow hearts that
Taste like the sun.
(“White” is the name of a fragrance category in the
Perfume world, to describe the narcotic pull of such divas as
Jasmine, Tuberose, and Orange Blossom.
I can’t explain this other than to say that it
Makes sense to my nose.
Frangipani is white floral’s “tropical” flavor.
And yes, other color flowers smell like other colors.
Lavender is lavender, while
Violet leaf smells as dark and mechanical as those
Blossoms touched with motor oil.
Rose always smells pink to me, and Mimosa has the
Yellow smell of children frolicking outside.
“White” is considered
Classical, traditional, and refined.)
Frangipani are not native to Hawaii nor to Asia and
Trust me, I’m as
Shocked as you.
Try to discover their indigenous lore, and you’ll run into
Beautiful Buddhist and Hindu associations, and the
Ubiquity of the Hawaiian lei.
But Frangipani-Plumeria with its several names
Derived from European men is an
American export.
I like this sort of flower, that can
Go everywhere and so charm the
Native people that it becomes to them
Like a God.
A transnational sort of flower.
A citizen of the world.
Frangipani was the first tree to go into
My Goddess Garden.
Wikipedia says “they have carried
Complex symbolic significance for over two millennia”
In Mesoamerica.
The Maya connected them with female sexuality.
The least I could do is learn their native name:
Nikte.
Prosey poems and musings about unlearning all the toxic ways I connect to the earth. IN PROCESS, figuring it out, and trying to emulate Robin Wall Kimmerer, but I have a long way to go.
Sunday, August 15, 2021
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The first thing I wanted to plant was a Frangipani. They make the most perfect, white-floral candies, Like the frosted flowers on a cak...
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