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The period of time when I worked as a florist was an exquisite time of my life.  It came briefly after a series of catastrophic events in my personal life, and I think it was a gift to get me through.  In retrospect, I think the flowers saved me.

I loved it.  I worked on an elevated area where I watched the coming and goings in the storefront.  Usually, either young folks looking for corsages, happy couples planning their weddings, or families who had just suffered a death were coming in.  It was an intensely strange dynamic - as the need for flowers can be the best or worst of occasions.  It gave me an immediate and intimate look at human nature.

My hair always smelled like lilies -  Asiatic lilies remain my favorites.  They stood all around the room in 5-gallon buckets waiting to be arranged.  They have a strong scent while the cultivated roses are simply raised now for their appearance and longevity.  Somehow, most lilies have escaped that fate and remain fragrant with the ability to bruise easily.  I could make a thousand metaphors about that, but I won’t here.

There was a very experienced florist there who taught me how to care for the cut flowers.  Roses were the most demanding.  The protective petals of the roses had to be removed; the thorns shaved away, the stem threaded with wire to keep the head of the rose upright as long as possible.  The stem of the rose must be cut at an angle and immediately put into water or it will form a barrier that prevents absorption of the water solution.  She taught me the names of all the plants we used:  delphinium, alstroemeria, larkspur, statice, allium, and so many varieties of roses and greenery I can’t even begin to mention.  Soon, all the flowers were easily nameable as I related their scents and textures to their genre and names.

The calla lilies were one of my favorites.  All the pollen inside of them had to be shaken out so it would not spoil a bride’s dress in a single instance.  You cannot imagine how particular I was about the flowers for my own wedding ;)

My favorite part of the day was the very end.  On the floor below the table where we worked was a pile inches deep of discarded blossoms and leaves and stems.  No one ever wanted to sweep up, but I jumped at the chance.  I swept and swept until the entire room erupted in scent.  I always saved the flowers that weren’t quite perfect enough for our arrangements and brought them home with me for my mother’s table and my bedroom.

It still remains a passion of mine - creating that impermanent art.  I would love to go to Japan simply to study ikebana.  Floral arrangement really is an art and a gift.  In a way, I found it be some kind of community service - a gift to people in the happiest and saddest moments of life.  It still soothes me no matter what circumstances I happen to be in.

Valentine’s Day always makes me wish to be in the shop again with the hundreds and hundreds of red, pink, and white roses piled up on every available surface.  I’ve put a little money aside for Buttercup and I to decorate the entire house with flowers for the week leading up to Valentine’s Day.  I cannot wait to show her that, and I think it will be a good project for her leading up to Valentine’s Day.