Wisteria Aesthetic Novels & Stories

I want to taste that so fucking badly. A roaring voice makes me jerk my head to the side. My brows furrow as I stare at her home. It’s a beautiful duplex, grand enough to be tagged to a rich family but not grand enough to be referred to as a mansion. At the side of the front part of the building is a curved window wall which on a normal day will give a decent insight inside the building without thick, long curtains hanging down from the inside. The front rustic pathway is kneaded with large pebbles and a nicely attended to garden beautifies both sides of the environment. If the small iron gate dividing the building from neighbouring houses and the road was opened further, there’ll be a good

"Mommy, let me show you your room first, then we can explore around. Daddy has set up a pergola in the yard with wisteria vines. It looks so beautiful when it blooms." "Wisteria flowers?" Patricia was slightly surprised, suddenly having a fleeting illusion, then quickly felt that the idea was ridiculous and forcibly pushed it out of her mind. Martin couldn't possibly have planted the wisteria vine because of her. He never knew she liked wisteria. After Randy familiarized Patricia with the house, he led her to the garden. A grand pergola covered with fifty purple wisteria vines came into view. It was the season for wisteria blossoms, and the landscape was filled with purple flowers. A gentle

We’re escorted via golf cart through the orchard, farther back toward an enormous, tented area that covers a sea of wisteria, perfectly enclosed to maintain their vibrant greenery and cascading purple flowers this time of year. Underneath their near-tunnel of fragrant blooms is an elongated table that’s set for twenty, with silver-trimmed China and flatware, elegant crystal goblets and flutes. The chair frames are silver with white padding, and the sheer runner along the intentionally weathered, sturdy gray dining table is a shimmery silver. Very delicate complements to the décor that don’t overpower the wisteria. The tent is heated, and the density of the trees shields the sides and the cei

"Oh jeez, I doubt we'll be able to find a seat—" Myla and Gemma walked ahead of me, their purses bouncing on their hips as they reached the counter and bought the train tickets. I stood back, looking around, admiring the stocky stone buildings of Old Town. The Wisteria vines were starting to bloom, and tiny purple flowers dotted the buildings. Magnolia trees hung heavy with buds of their own, and soon the entire area would smell strongly floral from their large, white flowers.

And the trees change from green-covered leads to purple hanging tendrils of wisteria. Rex walks us into the middle of the meadow, then turns us slowly in a circle so that we can take in the breathtaking view. "It's beautiful," I murmured in disbelief. I think this tops the waterfall at home, and I love that place and everything it means to me. But this has something different to it. A calling that makes me smile from the inside until my face is beaming. Rex lays down, and Khai encourages me to climb down slowly and carefully. My feet hit the floor, and in an instant, a vision fills my mind.

A large ironwork glasshouse another. A long pergola frames a path leading toward the far end of the garden; a green tunnel, blooming honeysuckle and passion flowers. We follow it, ducking rambling climbers. I snatch the scent of jasmine from here, the fragrance of lavender from there. In this green and perfumed bower, my Master pauses, looping an arm around my waist. "Come here…" He pulls me in close, his mouth falling on mine. Above us, a bird rustles and flutters in the tangled havoc of an ancient wisteria, squawking some reprimand at our presence. My Master laughs, releasing me. "That put us in our place."

His voice is polite and baritone. I saw that Estrebelle suddenly blushed because of Favian. I can't blame him because he's a very nice guy. People in Wysteria consist of beauties that no longer exist in modern times. Most people now look pretty because of makeup or cosmetic surgery. In today's world, the truly beautiful can only be counted even if they are not arranged. "Where are they?" I can't stop asking. I know it's rude but no one would answer my question related to them. It was purposely blocked by Elijah.

The hot tap ran slightly hot. "Your father built that," Eli said. He was looking out the window at the pergola. "Mine did," Noah said. "I planted the wisteria." Eli looked at him. "You planted the wisteria." "She needed something that would come back every year." He passed another plate. "Wisteria is a long-term commitment. Takes three years to establish and then it comes back harder every spring." He paused. "It seemed right for a pergola. Something permanent."

Chloe announced, packing the car in front of a stylish boutique on the corner. The boutique stood out with its mix of cottage and modern aesthetic, its brick walls and delicate awning covered with blooming Wisteria vine, the trails of their lavender blooms reminded her of the tangled fairytale. While its large glass windows showcased fashionable clothes. Mannequins posed elegantly, dressed in outfits that were different–bolder– from what Lily would normally wear. This was definitely a bad idea. She wondered if she should turn back and go home. But when her eyes met Chloe’s excited ones she decided to go along with it.

Hope, fragile but potent, unfurled like a new fern frond. **Alister** Damp brick, cold and gritty, bit into Alister Blackstone’s shoulder through the fine cashmere of his overcoat. He pressed himself deeper into the recessed shadow cast by a monstrous, ancient wisteria, its gnarled trunk thick as a man’s thigh, its fragrant purple blooms providing scant cover but deepening the gloom. The conservatory’s towering glass walls, a testament to Evelyn’s pretentious cultivation, were now his unintended viewing gallery.