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A Bloomin' Truth

3/5/2013

6 Comments

 
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It's been unusually cold in central Florida this past weekend. Nighttime temps plummeted into the low 30s, prompting neighborhood gardeners to cover their fragile foliage. We don't cover our plants, though; we've adopted a gardening philosophy that the plants themselves can choose if they live or die. Apparently the straggly rosebush beneath my kitchen window opts for the former; it is full of pink blooms. I have to smile when I catch sight of it.

I appreciate creatively arranged flowers and greens in both landscaping and vases. I also enjoy looking at wildflowers along roadsides and randomly gathered blossoms (or blossoming weeds) plunked into containers with no obvious intentions of theme or arrangement. I'm attracted to photos and sketches or paintings depicting dramatic posies, and floral fabrics that hint of days long ago. There is something about flowers that speaks to the inner me.

I don't consider myself a romantic in any traditional sense. My favorite present from my beloved is a gift certificate - or several - for massages. Perfect date night? Order-in, comfy "TV-watching clothes," wine, and a good flick. High-quality chocolate is not a romantic offering; it's a daily necessity - like vitamins. I do, however, appreciate being surprised by having my stash unexpectedly replenished. I choose citrus or green scents over floral, don't wear or decorate with lace or floral patterns, and eschew Nicholas Sparks-like books and movies. Yet if G bestows upon me a gift of flowers for no special occasion? Well, let the date night begin!

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The fact is, my delight in flowers has little to do with being a romantic. I have no desire to read seed catalogs, wear wide-brimmed hats, and plunge my hands into the soil, but admiring someone's well-tended garden is viscerally pleasurable. Any gift of colorful blooms, whether artfully arranged by a professional or in a supermarket's cellophane sleeve, brings me moments of pure joy. Even gifting myself with a bouquet lifts my spirits. 

For all their beauty, flowers have visual imperfections, don't age well, and will eventually die. When they're gone, the memory of their power to make me smile and appreciate remains. I like that. I hope I do for others what flowers do for me.

6 Comments
cmk link
3/6/2013 02:10:59 pm

You could have been reading my mind when you wrote this! I, too, would rather have an at-home date night with all of the comforts of home. Nicholas Sparks, etc, 'sets my tith on etch' (as Ricky Ricardo would say) and I have just about as much romance in my soul as a dog biscuit does. :) But, flowers are a joy to me. I have taken a flower arranging class several times and it always was a delightful experience. Thankfully, The Husband loves flowers as much as I do and wouldn't mind having a 'flower bill' to pay every month. While I am very good at making flowers last longer than usual, I don't indulge as often as I should--sometimes it just hurts to pay the money. :/

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Natine
3/12/2013 12:57:23 pm

So happy to hear from you, CMK! I'm not surprised some of this resonates with you; I can tell we share some traits by reading your blog! Glad to see you published last week; was wondering if you'd disappeared into hockeyland. :)

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Shel Harrington link
3/10/2013 09:03:51 am

When I lived on a tight budget in a colorless mobile home, my weekly splurge on supermarket bouquets kept a smile on my face! I have to say, though, that a surprise replenishment of a fine-chocolate stash really IS a romantic gesture!

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Natine
3/12/2013 12:58:08 pm

It certainly IS, Shel! Hahahahahaha...

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Sharon
3/12/2013 12:28:30 pm

I continue to enjoy your blogs! I love flowers,love to plunge my hands in to warm dark dirt. I eat what I grow and I stop and smell the roses planted in my mothers memory.

If only I could get the man and the children to mow, edge and weed wack the almost non-existant grass I would be happy.

Maybe next year when Ihave more time!!

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Natine
3/12/2013 01:00:42 pm

Oh you are too funny, Sharon! On the plus side, there's no compelling reason to mow, edge, or weed wack (whack?) something that's nearly non-existent, now is there? HAHAHAHAHAHA (PS. Responding to my post doesn't count as your 30 minutes exercise today...hahahahahaha...)

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