Flower Power

In some ways I am a true chick. I love much of the primping and pampering that comes with being a girl. I can't imagine not experiencing the bliss and relaxation associated with an amazing facial, massage or pedicure.

Receiving flowers? A wonderful gesture, but never something I truly desired or that took my breath away (well, at least not since I was wide-eyed and innocent). I just always felt it was so sad to watch something so beautiful wilt, and then have to throw it out. Now that I have a home with tons of greenery all around, I adore spending endless amounts of time watching the growth of the plants and flowers and exploring their nuances with Lauren. We have blooms which can pretty much be enjoyed year-round, never making their way to the trash unless their demise is natural. In the summer, one of my favorite things to do, with the light slowly receding and the air still warm, is to sit out back and take in the whisper of the breeze rustling through the palms and bamboo, all the while listening to the birds chasing each other from branch to branch, flower to flower.

After yesterday, however, I must admit that my philosophy on receiving flowers has turned a corner. While putting Lauren to bed, the doorbell rang. I tried to ignore it, thinking it was a solicitation of some sort (and not wanting to screw up the bedtime routine, lol). Of course, seizing on the perfect excuse to avoid going to sleep, the little one bounded from under the covers and raced to to the door. Not wanting her to be abducted by a body snatcher or whatever/whoever had dared delay my evening glass of wine, I quickly followed and opened the door to this:



"Oh, Mama" was all she could say. "Oh Mama" was all I could think.

Now, I can't say whether at first it was the utter surprise of the moment or the sheer beauty of the arrangement, but my breath was definitely taken away. Lauren then commented, "What a pretty present." With that, my 4-year-old helped me realize something so important. The size or artistry of the arrangement wasn't important, nor that within less than a week, it would begin to shrivel up and would eventually make its way into our yard waste container. No, it was a gift, with real sentiment behind it. That is what really matters. So from this point forward, be it a dozen long stemmed roses or a handful of dandelions picked from down the street, I plan to thoroughly appreciate and enjoy them as the "present" they were intended to be.