Mimosas

Mimoas – the flowers, not the drink – seem to be super en vogue this season. In recent weeks, I encountered them all over Instagram, sitting on mantelpieces and coffee tables, standing on desks in offices, adding a pop of colour to minimalistic bedrooms or artfully arranged in expensive-looking flower bouquets of professional florists (see here, here and here).

In most photos, the yellow of the little pompom-like blossoms looks subdued and warm. So, as I stand in front of the flower selection at our local supermarket, I am hesitant to reach for a rather forlorn-looking bundle of Mimosas, glowing in a bright, almost neon-green-yellow and squeezed tight into some cheap, clear plastic wrapping.

As I carry them home, I wonder how I will be able to turn that into an appealing arrangement. Had I just fallen victim to the Mimosa hype of 2023?

But then I remember that what had driven me to seek them out, was the memory of a large Mimosa tree I had come across in Athens on a mild spring day somewhere on a street in Exarchia.

So, back in grey and cold Zurich, Mimosas turned into a reminder that winter will be ending at some point and that warm, sunny days do exist. And, while the bundle I picked up at the store came from Italy, it feels like a souvenir I brought with me from Athens.

At home, I put them in an old brown glass bottle and as soon as they are freed from their plastic prison they look so much better. And yes, I did toy with the yellow tones in that photo. As only after negligence on my part led to a withdrawal of their water supply, the yellow started to fade into a more appealing colour. I am now planning to dry them out completely, so I can keep them until spring arrives.