Flower Confessional

I have a confession to make: I used to steal flowers.


 That’s right, I was a 3 year old juvenile delinquent.

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Me: The {happy} a flower thief.

My grandparents lived next door to an elderly woman who planted a simple pansy and petunia garden every summer but worked hard to keep it looking nice and full all summer long. At least she tried. She had ME sneaking into her yard and pulling them up on a regular basis. First, I started picking her flowers to bring home to my mom, or grandma (probably to cover something up/smooth over/or get my way) but it started out as a gesture of love. Well, I quickly learned that my gesture was not welcomed, flowers were not liked, and they would only get me into trouble because I was grabbed by the hand, marched right back to were I’d foraged my first bouquet, and told to fess up, and apologize. Which I didn’t understand because they were clearly mine. They were in MY hand. I had picked them all by myself. And I was being forced to return them… For what!?  Because apparently you’re supposed to ask first. So I did. But “Old Lady M” was not interested in sharing these little beauties with me. They were only to be looked at not for picking. (WTF…What fun is that?? Seriously.)

I am pretty sure I had to “replant” what I had taken and told I wasn’t allowed back in her yard again. Well, that didn’t exactly stop me. It did slow me down though. Sometimes “Mrs. M” would catch me before I got close enough to do anything. She’d come out on her porch or stand at her door and watch me if I tried to get too close. Other times it was too late; I’d all ready been in and out, {just like those pansies} before she could do anything about it. Or I would just wait for her to leave and then sneak over and take my  pick of her pretty flowers. She’d come home to find little dirt piles along her walk way and then march right over to my Grandma’s and tell on me. (Pretty sure my grandpa thought it was funny. I got away with quite a bit under his watchful eye.) By that time though- I had most definitely learned not to give anyone the flowers I “acquired”.

So I started keeping them form myself, hiding them behind the house, or trying to replant them in my own little garden only to find them wiled and dead the next day. I was 3 what did I know about growing a garden! So Instead I would gather other flowers, like dandelions and clovers and bundle them together and leave them on the door steps of the apartment complex we lived next to hoping others would find them and be happy to have them. If I thought I didn’t have enough time before someone caught me I’d tear them all up and make “flower soup, or flowers salad” and leave it out in the sun to bake like potpourri. Maybe I thought if it was a big choppy mess, they couldn’t prove whose flowers they were to begin with.

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Here I am, making my own rules, doing what I want, with the flowers that I LOVE, because I want more than anything for others to enjoy them as much as I do!

Thirty years later, I’m still in love with all things flowers. Only I don’t have to steal them anymore. 

I buy them. I create with them. I sell them. I share them. I enjoy them.

Sometimes I even give them away out of the kindness of my heart. Just because I can. (I’m not as terrible and rotten as I used to be.) 

 

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This is my Handsome Boy when he was about the same age doing what little people often do when they see flowers. Pick them!

For the life of me I still can’t grow my own anything. Maybe it’s karma for being such a shit, tormenting the elderly, and raising hell just because I knew I would get away with it. That is, if my grandpa had anything to say about it. And he always had something to say about it!

←For the record, these flowers came with the house, and they grow all on there own. (That’s how “good” I am at gardening.)←

If could grow my own garden (maybe I will someday) I’d let all the little children come pick them anytime they wanted. Because I believe that flowers are for picking, sharing, and enjoying! What good are they if you can’t enjoy them the way you want? Maybe you shouldn’t pick them from anyone else’s  garden with out asking first…. I definitely do NOT condone trespassing on private property. These days anyway. That could get you into some serious trouble. Especially if your grown-up ass thinks you’re sneaky enough to get away with it. Don’t be a flower thief. And teach your kids to admire the neighbors flowers from a distance but DO encourage them  to enjoy nature and let it inspire them to learn, touch, love and CREATE. You never know where it will take them!

 

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WTF | What A Year | The Preface

Seriously if I could choose anything… If I could DO anything… A floral designer was it. But I also knew I didn’t want to work for anyone else ever again.

WTF has come a long way… 

When I got an opportunity to design {like when my husband came home with my favorite lilies}; THAT would completely make my day.  It wasn’t just my favorite flowers. It wasn’t just being reminded how much my husband loved me.  It was all I wanted to do. Strip them, cut them, and arrange them in whatever vase I had at the time.  The other opportunities came during vacation.  Yup! I planned our vacations back home to Montana every year {so many times right down to the minute};  I made damn sure to include a design day for myself while we were there.  Because it meant that I got to go back the last flower shop I ever worked in and work with the family of designers that treated me like more than an employee, more than a friend, like that was where I belonged, like I was part of their  flower family.

While I had worked in other flower shops before that also helped me fall in LOVE with the floral industry – Butte Floral and the Forsman family gave me responsibility, opportunity, and freedom.  Freedom to create, freedom to make mistakes, freedom to explore, freedom to LEARN.  I knew being a floral designer was it for me.

Ten point 5 years later, even though someone else owns that shop today {Jen is equally amazing and welcoming!!}, they still save a spot {and the most ridiculous orders} just for me. When I pop in, pick up my knife, and go about the day as if I’d never left the TEAM.

Seriously if I could choose anything… If I could DO anything… A floral designer is what I was going to be.  But I also knew I didn’t want to work for anyone else ever again.  And if I’m being honest I just didn’t have it in me to “shop hop” in order to try to find the right fit. The perfect “flower fit” is a really big deal to me. I also knew if I was going to design it couldn’t be just anywhere with whomever had an opening. (I did that once.  Stayed when I should have left.  I’ll never do it again.  But that’s for a later post.)

So what’s a girl and her floral knife to do between all the wife-ing, and baby raising, and “California dreaming”? Getting my flower fix only every now and then…just wasn’t going to cut it! {Haha! “Cut it.” I’m so unintentionally funny sometimes!}

Now Fast Forward about 9 years to Sept 2016….

Continue reading “WTF | What A Year | The Preface”