Garden Tuesday – Bleeding Hearts

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Bleeding Hearts

If you’ve never been thrilled to the very edges of your soul by a flower in spring bloom, maybe your soul has never been in bloom. ~Audra Foveo

Bleeding Hearts
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  1. says

    I love bleeding hearts. I have one my grandmother planted many years ago..I still think of her every time it blooms. Beautiful Photo!!

  2. says

    I don’t know how anyone cannot be thrilled with flowers. They are so uplifting and warm the soul. Thanks for sharing your bleeding hearts.

  3. says

    Bleeding Hearts are so very special, they are indeedy! A story-flower, just like it’s good friend, Jack in the Pulpit. I was thrilled to pieces when my mother and sister gave us (my husband and I) one of each to plant in the backyard of out very own home, years and years ago. They (the plants, not my relatives) still pop up every spring! Do you know/remember The Bleeding Heart Story? It goes something like this:

    (As the story unfolds, a single bleeding heart flower is taken apart to form the pieces of it: two pink rabbits, two Oriental slippers, a dagger and a heart.)

    Once uponce a time (that’s how my daughter, Puppet, opened tales when she was a smitch), there lived a beautiful, but vain, princess in want of “her perfect prince.” Arrogantly, she selfishly scoffed at all the many young men who came to court her. She even ignored a young prince, who was deeply in love with her. He tried over and again to win her heart. One day, the young man found two pretty, pink rabbits at the market, and sent them to her in hopes they would surely melt her heart [Carefully break off the two outside petals of the flower. Sure enough, they look like pink bunny rabbits!] The Princess paid no heed. Then the prince sent her a pair of beautiful Oriental slippers. [From the front and back of the flower, peel away the two long petals. Voila! Dainty toe shoes with slender insteps!] Alas *deep sigh*, the princess would still have nothing to do with him. The young prince’s heart began to break; taking his dagger, he pierced that of which was painfully aching him. [The remains of the flower make the outline of a heart with a line down the center. The green stamen, which looks like a dagger, is put through the center of the “heart”] When the princess realizes the wrong she has caused, and that her true love is no more, she declares, “As long as I live, my heart shall bleed for my prince.” The Big Weep commences. That is how the Bleeding Heart got its name.

    This story was first told to me during recess on the playground of St. Jerome School, when I was a smitch. A teacher (Dominican nun, of course!) immediately tried to extinguish it with a grizzly tale of Christ’s bleeding heart, drooling blood and sin-sweat, and maybe a vampire flew in, I don’t quite recall, but something like that. I DON’T want to remember, actually. I clung to the sweeter “fairytale,” instead. (P.S. Dear Sister Louis de Montford: You can keep your stinkin’ Passion Flower story, too!)

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