Lemons Marigold Novels & Stories

Although both the dresses she picked out for me were disliked by my mind and heart, The dull color grey, reminded me of the gloomy sky and my sad face. "Can I at least try the pink one I really don't like the colour" She pursed her lips grabbing the pink dress and handing it to me. I wore it and I felt somewhat better. "I don't like it. The grey one is better" I frown. "But mom" She showed me her angry face. "It's not your wedding Lilyan, We are getting the grey one" I clenched my jaw as she grabbed the grey and headed to the counter as I stood there.

While our herb collection was impressive by most pack standards, the Alpha’s garden married both form and function. The centerpiece was a large water installation, a fountain surrounded by nodding, bell-shaped flowers in brilliant shades of yellow, orange, and red. I stepped closer, unable to resist the pull of their vibrant beauty. “Lilium canadense,” I murmured. “Canada lily.” I picked a sprig of the blooms, holding them in my hand. Feeling a surge of confidence, I turned back to Draven. “These are symbols of strength, commitment, and new beginnings,” I said, carefully tucking the stem inside Draven’s vest pocket.

Chapter 68 Aurora Who says marigolds aren't beautiful? Staring at the Colossus Red Gold type of marigold flower before me, I couldn't help but get lost in its rare beauty. The deep burgundy petals gilded with gold were enough for me to fall in love with it and brighten my full mood. Perfect! I couldn't take my eyes off the beauty right in front of me. Overtaken by pregnancy hormones, tears welled up in my eyes but I was quick to blink it back.

"Beauty without strength is just a pretty corpse." Amara had planted these roses herself—Mama’s favorite, "Souvenir de la Malmaison"—digging holes while tears blurred the soil. For you, she’d thought, pressing seeds into the earth. So something of you stays. Then one night after she was gone. Amara had stayed late, tracing the roses’ velvety petals as stars blinked awake. The scent was overwhelming—lemon, earth, bittersweet promise—when Selene’s voice cut through the dark:

I pick a petal from the flower, crushed it inside the bowl and mixed it until it was almost refined. "Wait, aren't those like.....deadly?" Isaac asks, upon seeing the flower on the table and what I've crushed into the bowl. "Could be" I shrugged as if it didn't matter, casting a glance at Collin who was still there just glaring at me. Lilium 'Stargazer' is a hybrid lily, it's not necessarily dangerous to humans. I have used it many times to make tea, and it is one of my favorite of the said plant family. It's scent is sweet and calming, I mostly grow these types, along with Madonna lily, my two favorites.

Clara “is there anything they missed?” Lena inquired. I shook my head while separating the herbs that she had gotten from the herb hunters. my smile widened when i saw the marigold herb. It is one of my mother’s favorite, she would always admire its colorful appearance, says it reminds her of me. not to mention its ability to heal wound and soothe skin inflammation. Whenever we went hunting for marigold, she would tell me to never live a pitiful life, I should always shine like the plant and make my presence known.

she faltered. "No problem," Delma said, wiping her hands on her apron, and came and stood on the opposite side of the table. She rested her hands on either end of the back of a chair. "There are three or four marjoram and they are near the wooden fence. As you will find yourself in front of the herb garden, the first row you will see are the mints. Just behind the last mint in the row and close to the fence is the first marjoram. I need about ten leaves and a few sprigs of mint.”

“These linens must be pressed! Everything must be perfectly crisp and clean!” The Luna was storming around the dining room. Her hair was in curlers and she was dressed in a dressing robe. “Y-yes ma’am!” Maristela stammered. Mari quickly pulled the linens from the table to steam and press them in the laundry. The Luna began to sort through the various flowers. Dahlias, hellebores, hydrangeas, snapdragons, foxgloves, English roses, peonies. Greenery like different varieties of eucalyptus and belles of Ireland.

Tanya. I carried the box gingerly inside, ensuring I bolted my door twice before I set the box on the kitchen island and stared at it for a while like it might start ticking. No markings. No note. Just a pale ivory ribbon tied once – tight, not decorative. Like a noose. My hands hovered slightly across the package before I could finally bring myself to open the package. Inside the box, laid on me single wilted marigold. It’s petals curled, browning at the edges, it barely clung to the brittle stem.

I named her nothing because I told myself I was not a person who named plants, and then I started thinking of her as Margaret and the damage was done. Margaret led to a trailing pothos named Vera. Vera led to a small lemon tree that Camille gave me for my birthday, already with two actual lemons on it, a gift so specifically cheerful it made me cry in a way I did not explain to her, though she knew anyway. The lemon tree does not have a name. I am drawing a line.