How often do you see big pristine white flowers growing in New York City?
That's what stopped us last night as we walked across 9th Street - three pots of pert little cyclamen plants, nestled on the stoop of a townhouse.
As we photographed the perfect blossoms, I noticed they also had a window box filled with the same plant. I love the simplicity of using just one kind of plant - no need to get all fancy with the design.
This plant already has so much going on: low-laying marbled foliage that makes a very hardy foundation for the long lean stems that emerge, like ballerinas, supporting silky silvery blossoms that turn throughout the day.
Cyclamen was once a plant I had a small distaste for - someone gave me one with pink blossoms when I had my first job out of college and I kept it on my desk filled with faith that I could nurture and love this little life, but it died on me. I probably over watered it, but at the time I took it very personally, and developed a resistance to falling in love again. Well, last night it happened. Love at second sight. skgr