A Day in the Life of a Flower

Bluwer by Name, Blue by Colour

I think a lot about death. But that's probably not surprising considering I live in a cemetery.

Yes, you heard me correctly. A cemetery! Brompton Cemetery to be exact. Brompton Cemetery in central London, to be even more precise.

No, I am not a homeless tramp who sleeps among the gravestones.

In fact, I am just two inches tall and if I say so myself, really rather beautiful. I am, you see, a flower. Bluwer by name, and as it happens blue by colour.

At the moment I am enjoying the sunshine. It's bathing my petals in its warmth. Yesterday it rained. I enjoyed that, too. In fact, I enjoy just about every kind of weather... except snow. That can be fatal to me. It freezes my roots and when that happens, I can't drink from the soil. And that will be the end of my life, life which I am told is not long anyway.

But let's not get too gloomy. After all I'm alive at the moment! The only thing that saddens me is that I won't get buried like my neighbour here... my human neighbour, that is. He's called Daniel Watson, but I never knew him. You see, he is my neighbour because I am growing next to his grave.