A tiny bloom from the woods that now lives in my sketchbook (and maybe your closet soon?)
✨The Secret Life of Lily of the Valley (and How It Blossomed Into My Art)✨
When most kids were watching Saturday morning cartoons, I was out in the wild... well, okay, in my grandparents’ backyard—which just happened to be a countryside dreamland surrounded by forest, river, and suspiciously sassy chickens. 🐔
We spent nearly every weekend—or full summers—at their farm (how I spent almost all childhood's summers there I will tell next time), where the scenery looked like a fairy tale and smelled like fresh hay and adventure. Their place was hugged by forest and bordered by a river, which made it prime real estate for wildflower treasure hunts. 🌿And our absolute favorite springtime ritual? Checking the secret corner by the river valley for one very special flower: Lily of the Valley. 🌸
But here’s the catch:
This flower doesn’t wait for anyone.
In Lithuania, where spring weather can turn from sunshine to snowstorm in a sneeze, Lily of the Valley (or pakalnutė in Lithuanian) only blooms for about two short weeks. You had to be quick.
So every weekend became a floral stakeout:
“Is it blooming yet?!”
“Did we miss it??”
It was our secret mission to be the first to spot those delicate, bell-shaped blossoms tucked into the shade of the actual valley—which, fun fact, totally matches the English name Lily of the Valley. Coincidence? I think not.
🌿 Why all this fuss over a little flower?
Well, first of all, it smells amazing. And second, there’s something special about a bloom that only appears briefly—like nature’s limited edition.
It was our spring tradition. And the name couldn’t be more perfect—Lily of the Valley literally comes from the Latin “Lilium convallium,” meaning “lily of the valleys.” Ours was blooming in a real, actual valley. Coincidence? Destiny? Either way—magical.
🌸 In flower language, Lily of the Valley symbolizes “returning happiness.”
That always felt true for me—because when the flowers returned, so did joy.
But then the years passed.
I don’t visit the farm anymore.
My grandparents—who made that farm feel so full of love and meaning—have been gone for over 20 years. That magical corner by the river is probably overgrown now, but it still blooms, just like the memory does in me.
So, I decided to honor it the best way I know how—
By turning it into a print pattern on linen.
Soft, natural, textured—just like the memory. 🌿
It’s my way of bringing that fleeting, precious moment into something lasting. A little tribute to springtime, love, and a flower that knew how to make an entrance (and exit) like a true diva.
Because sometimes the best inspiration comes from moments that lasted just two weeks… but live in your heart forever.
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