A slice of life in a small town on the East End of Long Island
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
I am always amazed at the effect flowers have on my psyche.
Last week, when I was tired of the cold and rain and wishing for Spring, and the deer had done their damage to my garden so the crocuses had been devoured and the hyacynths disappeared, I had to stop at the florist for some help. I walked around the green house looking at all the pretty spring plants, admiring the colors and smells as I wandered, and I stopped and checked out every one of the little Spring plant baskets that they'd put together in the gift shop. I needed something, and it had to be just right. I needed some color, some variety, and it needed to be small enough for my kitchen table but big enough to "pop". I finally zeroed on on a couple pretty containers that were covered with spanish moss, looking every bit like something grabbed right from the garden. In each container the florist had put together a combination of plants, like mini-daffodils and ranunculas, nicely colorful and very much the look of Spring. I debated over a few of them, studying each combination until I decided on the one I wanted, and carried it to the front counter. It had the pre-requisite mini-daffodils, plus some pretty purple and avendar pansies, a red renunculas, and a couple pretty little chicadee figures placed in among the leaves. It looked like a mini-garden scene, had a nice color combination, and was the perfect size for my table. I paid for it and brought it home where I look at it everytime I walk through the kitchen or sit in the living room, and it always makes me smile.
Sometimes its the simplest things in life that bring us joy: a child's smile, a tiny kitten, a basket of flowers. So simple and yet so meaningful. It was well worth the money...