Mum's the Word: An Ode to Late Bloomers

Just as nature announces last call, in strolls the chrysanthemum, fashionably late and fresh as a daisy (literally), wondering why everyone's got their coat on.

While most flowers enjoy their moment in the spring and summer sunshine, chrysanthemums burst in fashionably late. As the days grow shorter and temperatures begin to fall, it is their time to shine. They are completely unbothered by the fact that everyone else has signed off. 

"I pluck chrysanthemums under the eastern hedge,
Then gaze long at the distant summer hills"

- Tao Yuanming (365–427 CE), Drinking Wine, No. 5. Translated by Arthur Waley, from A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems (1918)

Chrysanthemums have been cultivated in China as a flowering herb for over 2,000 years. Considered one of the “Four Noble Characters” in the Chinese cultural narrative (alongside plum blossom, bamboo and the orchid) the flower became a symbol of longevity and the “virtue to withstand all adversities. Tea and wine made from the blooms became a long standing tradition, particularly during the Double Ninth Festival, a celebration of longevity and respect for elders.

It's no wonder they've captured imaginations for centuries. The beauty of flowers is fleeting, yet somehow Chrysanthemums have come to represent one of humanity's oldest preoccupations: living a long and beautiful life. 

Hongwu (Chinese, Qing dynasty), Chrysanthemums, 1788. Ink and color on paper.  The Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York.

From China, the symbolism traveled to Japan, where the Chrysanthemum became somewhat of a talisman for imperial prominence and remains one of the country's most recognizable cultural emblems (kikumon).

Interestingly, as the popularity of the flower made it's way westward, it's meaning shifted slightly. While East Asian cultures associated it with the endurance of life, parts of Europe, particularly France and Italy post WWI, came to associate chrysanthemums with the endurance of memory as a symbol of mourning. 

Human beings are uniquely adept at finding patterns, and for good reason. Anticipating change has helped us navigate an otherwise unpredictable world. Can you imagine how much more terrifying life would be if we couldn't tell when winter was coming or whether those dark clouds meant rain?

So, we observe the order of nature and do our best to follow suit. We organize life into seasons, each with its own expectations. Spring is for beginnings, summer for flourishing, autumn for reflection, and winter for wondering where on earth the year went.

People speak of being in their prime as though it were a fixed appointment, one we may arrive at too early, miss entirely, or spend the rest of our lives reminiscing about. We assign ages to achievements, clock certain milestones to maturity, and impose deadlines to dreams, as though every individual is working from the same calendar.

But of course, like gardens, it's a little more complicated than that. People grow in unexpected directions. We discover new interests. We become braver, kinder, more curious, and sometimes more comfortable with ourselves as time passes.

But really, there is no particular reason to believe that the most interesting parts of a life must happen first.

And here's where the chrysanthemum offers an interesting correction, in my opinion.

Even though we praise them for their resilience, chrysanthemums aren't necessarily tougher than any other flower; their success is not due to some heroic struggle against the elements. They flourish in autumn because they're simply biologically suited to the season. They're just following their own timetable.

Humans like to define resilience as the ability to succeed despite one's circumstance, but thriving is sometimes a matter of being aware of the conditions in which you perform your best, and embracing them.

Its's all too easy to imagine life as a collection of diminishing possibilities. We keep a chronicle of the things we've outgrown, the opportunities we've missed, the years that have slipped away. But we are considerably less diligent about indexing all we've gained: the people we've come to know, the things we've learned to appreciate, the convictions we've reexamined, and the unexpected pleasures we couldn't possibly have seen coming.

Through all its cultural interpretations, one thing is clear: the chrysanthemum is an emblem to rituals surrounding the passage of time, and need not be understood entirely as a story of loss. Maybe the secret to a long and beautiful life isn't in the number of years, but recognizing that beauty, discovery, and transformation are not privileges reserved for the young. 

After thousands of years, the chrysanthemum remains a persuasive advocate for late bloomers everywhere, because it's impossible to arrive late to your own season.

And so, never missing a cue, we're pleased to announce that the Mums have finally arrived in all their autumnal finery! Our shops are full of them, in so many lovely colors and varieties.

Come by and see them in all their glory!