Once, in my life, I received a dozen red roses  on Valentine’s Day.

I was 20, and the delivery of roses to my house was one of the few times in my minority years that my life felt just right, just like it was supposed to be. You know; as seen on TV.

But for me, when it comes to the delivery of a dozen red roses, once in my lifetime is enough. I understand that red roses are the symbol of luuuuuuuv, and I do love roses as my second-favorite flower, but cut roses are a shame, and the red ones are so “Eh”.  And painting them is not much of a treat either.

It takes a bit of experimenting — with vermillion, fuchsia, and various brands of paint called  “red” — to get the correct hue:


I am painting a specific kind of red rose here, and from the get-go I do not like the looks of it:


The black shading is not my thing, and at this point:


I think the rose looks capital-U Ugly.

It also looks Ugly (to me)  at this point:


But I am painting this rose for the One I Love, and the One I Love loves this rose, so I must paint on.

Because the One I Love is kind:


And the One I Love is sincere:


This rose is for the One I Love.

But the One I Love is also playful:


And  joyous…


…and I am painting these one-of-a-kind (made up) butterflies…


… for the air, earth, and fire of my love’s merry brightness of being:


The One I Love is like the waters of the oceans — patient, deep, and thoughtful:


An Everest of honor


…and wise in the ways of never and always, is the One I Love:


I paint this eagle feather…


…because the One I Love is true-hearted and brave:


In all the world — of plants, and birds, and rocks, and things — blue is the color most rare


…and the color most romantic:


The One I Love is all that, too.

And then there’s this:

The love of the One I Love.


The love of the One I Love is as every-day a thing as atoms, and gravity…


… and photons, and electrons;


the love of the One I Love is as commonplace as day, or night…


…or even quarks, and tea:


In other words,


it might as well be magic.


This is dedicated to The One I Love.

 Please feel free to lift any part of this image that suits your Valentine too.

And if you don’t have anyone you want to call the One I Love this Valentine’s Day, I am right there with you, pouring the Pinot Grigio and reaching for a box of Kleenex.

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O Dear Readers, and you know who I mean, all you wonderful readers who gather here twice a week, you readers who send me the best birthday wishes, write the best Comments, fill me in on the best ideas of France and travel and tea and feathers YOU KNOW WHO I MEAN: YOU.

Will you be my Valentine?


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