I used to think it was perhaps laziness or imperfect housekeeping that was the reason I left flowers in their vase long after they would be considered proper or pretty.
But then I saw the work of an artist who only painted flowers in their 'past their prime' state and I realized she was seeing much beauty in them and that I was too.
So now I let them paperize, relax, assume a form beholden unto itself. And I watch this transformation with curiosity and respect.
The simplicity of a single stem of forsythia catches and holds attention as a bunch might not do. Mostly the lone stem has more to do with my reluctance to pick and bring indoors something that, if left alone, would bloom in sun and wind and starlight. (I have no problem with purchasing flowers already picked.) But I took this stem from the bush in the front garden during a cold spell when some reassurance was needed that a bare branch would and could burst out brilliance if given house space. And if admired many times a day. It worked!
Some fleece got felted around a balloon partially filled with sand to make this soft vase. A narrow plastic tube holds water and fit perfectly. Some snowdrops came indoors.
The annual city pick-up of branches has resulted in piles of garden trimmings along the streets.
I rescued a few budding fruit tree twigs and expect they will continue to flower and leaf. That's a fingerless glove wrapped around a glass of water giving a cozy place to blossom.
Some more of the 'treasures' from the street branch piles. Lucky I got them when I did: the city collection happened yesterday on our block.