Wisteria Aesthetic Novels & Stories

He had a penthouse suite, which I wasn't surprised by. When we got in, he excused himself to go and change and then told me where I could get some wine and where the glasses were. The penthouse was gorgeous. It had some inviting warm colours like velvets and whites and oranges. It was very tastefully curated. Probably done by a designer. Nobody had recognized when we were out because he was wearing a cap and had the hood on most of the time.

A path of deep crimson rose petals leads down a central aisle, flanked by pews of dark, polished wood. The ceiling is a cascade of wisteria, thousands of delicate purple blossoms tumbling down with their fragrance perfuming the air. Mixed in between them are tiny, golden lights that twinkle like captured stars, casting a soft, magical glow over everything. At the end of the path stands a simple arch woven from more wisteria and deep green ivy. And there he is.

The sight was entertaining as if one had miniature houses stored underwater. At a distance, there was a small bridge over the stream. A wisteria tree stood strong beside the stream as its roots and shoots mantled the bridge. The flowers from the wisteria dangled above the bridge, creating a nice roof that shades it. Some of the wisteria's flowers fell into the stream and turned into boats with rowers as they floated downstream.

Calyx It was interesting watching her expressions as she took in the views of my coven. To be fair, the place does look rather magical with vines wrapped around the vast estate, wisteria hanging from every alcove trees woven all around as a waterfall gushes to the side, but looks can be deceiving. She looked at everything, utterly captivated, as she observed where I had brought her.

The balcony is made from plants mostly, and some purple and blue flowers. Wisteria, bellflower, foxglove, lavender, purplish blue veronica, freesia, blue-tinted statice, and cornflowers. They are beautiful, so eternal but if you look closely you see they aren't full of life. There's something strange in those color shades. Like they are out of the world. So dark and so full of... I don't recognize this thing. Maybe, I'm just delusional. Yes, I might be, being here in this 'too much too purple' world where I feel all kinds of foreign emotions and all kinds of shades of blue and violet.

The estate in November required a different kind of seeing — the seeing that could recognize beauty in structure rather than ornament, in the bones rather than the flesh. He stood at the east wing's south wall and looked at the roses. The roses in November were in the state that Thomas called the preparation: the canes cut back, the root stock prepared for winter, the plant drawing its energy into the ground rather than the visible growth. In three springs the roses would be at the first windows. In eight years the wall would not be visible behind them. Ernest tried to imagine the wall covered in roses — the specific color of the roses that Thomas had selected, a deep pink that Thomas had de

"We have magnolia trees here in the business faculty. How about yours?" "We have wisterias." Zoey seemed chattier than usual. With a gesture, she added, "They're about this tall. It's especially picturesque in spring when they're in full bloom. Entire trees full of pink and white flowers. I think they look even nicer than the cherry blossoms in the law faculty." Laurence hummed, "Let's come see them in the spring next year." Zoey kept quiet. By next spring, they’d most likely be divorced and strangers, but she didn’t voice her thoughts as Laurence seemed to be in a good mood.

I knew what those flowers meant. Gentian: hopeless love. Wisteria: living for love, dying for love, obsessed with love but never achieving it. Two cold, inappropriate flowers to give as a gift. It was truly impressive how Susan managed to pick these two. "No," I said coldly, then turned and walked away.

Emma looked scared for a moment. “Oh, don’t mind him,” Conrad dismissed him. “He’s feeling grumpy because he is feeling left out. Come my darling.” Conrad held out his arm. Emma looped her arm around his and allowed Conrad to escort her out. The garden was magnificent. Redolent walls of trimmed rose bushes lined the walkway. Wisteria trees swayed in the distant, creating an ethereal canopy above them. “It’s beautiful,” she marveled. “Thank you. My late wife had this commissioned. She was a lover of nature, and wanted a piece of it close to her. This garden is where I come to find her.”

He would admire each flower and ask questions about them. The irony was that even with these beautiful sights, the estate still felt cold and unwelcoming to her. She already had a painted image in her head that it was filled with bitterness and animosity. That was the full reality of the Wellesley estate. She sighed. The air was filled with a gentle fragrance because of the flowers around her; earthy, floral, comforting. She wouldn’t tell Asher, but bringing her here, away from the chaos, to calm her, had been the best decision he would have made for her.