Antique Swedish Herbarium - Cranesbill Geranium, circa 1903

The sort of flower that appears, uninvited, at the edge of a garden wall. A perennial vagabond, violet-blue petals veined as if by a draftsman’s impossibly fine nib. In Edwardian summers it grew where it pleased, under orchard ladders, by rain barrels, along stone paths worn smooth by boots. Bees adored it then, as they do now, lingering, humming, intoxicated by its quiet generosity before flying off to more flamboyant blooms. Hardy, self-assured, quietly enduring. The sort of bloom that knew how to last through war, peace, tea at four, and the occasional scandal.