First Flower

It was a day like any other day, except for the fact that it was the first day of spring. This made Natalia happy since the moment she opened her eyes. In the south, springtime is a luxury. Not only is it the only time during the year that it’s not too hot or too cold, but for a few weeks, it is just perfect. That is a rarity to be cherished.

Growing up in Georgia, Natalia knew this reality all too well, which is why she felt particularly optimistic this morning and woke up an hour before her alarm, just after sunrise. Her wife, Elle, lay there sound asleep. Nat quietly slid out of bed not to wake her and went downstairs to make her daily dark roast French press, the most sacred part of her day. Drinking her coffee was as close to a daily ritual as she had, and no matter what hardship they may be facing, or where they might be traveling, good coffee was something that she never compromised on. Ever. Strong, Italian coffee was a must, and this spring morning was no different.

Natalia was a painter, and a fairly successful one at that, of course that is, when there was work to be found. As she boiled water, she sat at the kitchen table, staring blankly at the paint splattered on her hands left over from the night before. Thinking about how long it had been since she had any commissioned work, realizing it had been some time, and that their savings account was running low. A little too low for comfort. Elle was a musician. She played guitar and had a beautiful singing voice but was finding it difficult to reach commercial success. More difficult than she had anticipated given her talents. Nat believed in her and took as much painting work as she could get to support them. Natalia painted murals, portraits, one-offs for wealthy out of town patrons, and even gave private lessons to kids in the neighborhood, but It wasn’t as fulfilling as she thought it would be. Doing what she loved as a living, that is. It made painting less fun and more of a chore. A job, and she hated that. She believed she was too much of a free spirit to let a job, a wife, and financial troubles rule her life. She wondered how she had let herself get here. The water started to boil, and Natalia pushed the negative thoughts out of her head to try and enjoy her morning. It was, after all, the first day of spring.

She poured herself a cup of black coffee, grabbed her little black notebook, and stepped outside onto the porch. The air was fresh, and the leaves on the oak trees were dewy. She took a deep breath of the southern spring air, a sip of coffee, and drew a few line sketches in her notebook. Nat wasn’t able to think clearly for some reason unclear to her and decided that in order to clear her head, she needed to move her body. She poured herself a cup of coffee to go and started to walk down the street. Sipping on her coffee, clutching her notebook, and letting her mind wander, she noticed a stunning vivid pink wild azalea starting to bloom on the side of the road.

“How interesting” she thought to herself, “I am witnessing the first flower of spring.”

Natalia sat next to the budding flower on the side of the road and started to sketch it in her little black notebook. Her long black hair fell over her shoulder onto the page. She brushed it aside, and furiously drew the flower from every angle she could. She hadn’t felt a burst of inspiration like this in years. She had no idea why she was so drawn to the first flower…she just was.

Maybe it was because she felt like an explorer, discovering a new land. Maybe it was because being the first human to lay eyes on this particular bud felt significant, a sign of something special to come. An hour flew by, and she had drawn over 20 sketches of this single budding flower. It was a moment between only her and the flower. That being said, she couldn’t help but shake off the feeling like someone or something was watching her. She lifted her head and looked around, but didn’t see anything, so she leaned in closer to the flower to try and view it from every angle she possibly could. As she drew closer to the flower, something strange happened. It was peculiar, but as she moved closer to the flower, she could hear a light ringing sound in her ears. Perplexed, she backed away and shook her paint splattered finger in her ear to make sure she wasn’t just hearing things, and then leaned her ear as close to the flower as she could without touching it. As she moved in, she heard the ringing again. She leaned out, heard nothing, leaned back in, and the ringing started again. She did this a few times before she started to feel really weird about the entire situation.

“Here I am, not only witnessing the first bloom of my favorite season, but I can hear it too…I didn’t know that flowers made sounds. Can flowers make sounds? Or am I just going crazy?”

“No, you’re not going crazy.” she heard a strange voice say.

She couldn’t tell where the voice was coming from, or even what sort of voice she was hearing. It sounded somewhere between a child and a man’s voice but muffled and sort distorted.

“Okay…I must be hearing things.” She said to herself.

Nat started to stand up to walk back home and forget about this strange encounter with the beautiful budding azalea, when she heard the voice speak to her again.

“No, you’re not hearing things, I’m right here, come a little closer.” the strange voice spoke.

She quickly dropped back to her knees to examine the flower once more, but this time, she saw a tiny man on one of the petals. She swore the flower had even grew half of an inch since she stood up. Rubbing her eyes and looking at the flower again, the little man smiled a big, strange smile and waved at her. The tiny man was wearing a tiny suit, tiny wing tipped oxfords, and a tiny bow tie. He looked like a man from the 1920s shrunken down to the size of a pinky nail.

“No…this can’t be happening. What the hell is this?! I need to get home, my wife must be awake by now, and this isn’t real.”

“Elle isn’t awake, she’s still sleeping. You mustn’t worry. And I am very much real.”

“How would you know such a thing? How do you know her name? And why am I having a conversation with you, when you don’t exist?!”

“My name is Attwell, and I very much do exist. I am not from this world, or from any time, I have always just been. When I am able to visit Earth from time to time, I am invisible to most people. I am only able to show myself to a human once every few decades, but the way the world is going, I thought I would never be able to appear again.”

Sitting cross legged, staring at this strange character, and trying to accept her sudden new reality, she decided to give it a go.

“Alright what the hell, since we’re doing this… Hi Attwell, I’m Natalia.”

“Very nice to meet you, indeed, Natalia.” Attwell replied, with a huge grin on his tiny face.

“Yeah…so…why did you happen to show yourself to me?”

“Well, that is a valid question. Given the circumstances, I would be wondering the same thing. The reason I showed myself to you, was because you bothered to look. When you took the time to sketch the flower, you summoned me with your curiosity.”

“I summoned you…with my curiosity…alrighty then. Well, it was nice meeting you and all, Attwell, but I really should be getting back to, you know, real life, where tiny men in tiny suits don’t appear to me on budding flowers.”

Natalia began to stand up, feeling extremely disoriented and uneasy at the fact that she had been talking to a tiny man, that surely didn’t exist.

“Again, Natalia, I do exist” Atwell replied, as if he read her mind. “And before you go, I have a parting gift for you. The human who takes the time to observe and appreciate nature, who summons me in spring, receives something special. I do exist, after all and have special powers that do not belong of this realm.”

Natalia rolled her eyes and sat back down to talk to the little man once and for all. It was getting later in the morning, and all she hoped was that no one she knew would drive by and see her talking to a flower! She lived in a small community outside of Atlanta where she worked, and rumors spread like wildfire. This is not the kind of story she needed to get out, especially now that it was time to start looking for more commissioned work.

“Special powers…that do not belong of this realm…right. Well, what do I have to lose other than my sanity, which might already be long gone by now? Okay, shoot, tell me what you got. What’s my magical parting gift?”

Attwell smiled so big that his mouth swallowed half of his face. His expressions were more exaggerated than ours, like his skin stretched in every which way he pleased. He closed his eyes and stretched his tiny arms in the air and said, “Call the people in California. The art patrons, the ones…yes, the ones who bought your painting years ago. Tell them you’re working on a new piece, a painting, yes, a painting of the first flower of spring, a pink azalea."

He brought his arms down by his side, opened his eyes, and stared blankly at me. “Look," he said, “I don’t have much time with you left. My time on earth is short and sweet. Name the painting Attwell, and they will offer to pay you $20,000 for it before you have even created the work. Yes, that should be sufficient.”

“Mr & Mrs. Crenshaw? I haven’t talked to them in over 5 years! And the last time I did, they weren’t interested in purchasing any more of my work. Also, $20,000?! That is unreal. I sell my paintings for $1500, maximum. Why would they pay so much? This doesn’t make any sense.”

Attwell started to flash and fade, like a hologram whose light was dimming. The ringing appeared in Natalia’s ears again, only this time it was louder and clearer. It was agitating, but it was at this moment, she believed in this tiny man.

His voice was softer and harder to hear, but he mustered a reply. “I simply do not have enough time to explain to you how I know such things, but I do. Call them today. Tell them about your new work, and they will want to own it. It was very nice to meet you, Natalia, I hope we meet again sometime.”

Attwell gave her a tiny farewell wave with his tiny hand and poof, he disappeared. Just like that. The ringing stopped, and Attwell was already becoming a faint and distant memory, an illusion. There isn’t much of a difference between the two to begin with.

Natalia sat there, shocked by what she had just witnessed and before she knew it, right before her eyes, budding pink azalea immediately came into full bloom. It was as if she was watching time lapse photography, but in real life. She couldn’t believe her eyes; it was so breathtakingly beautiful. She immediately opened her little black notebook and sketched a stunningly realistic drawing of the full bloom with speed like never before. Once finished she put down her pen and closed her eyes, took in a deep breath of the springtime air, and finally, started to walk back home.

“What the hell” she thought, “I’m going to give the Crenshaws a call.”