Feast For The Eyes

For many years when I lived in snowy Rochester, NY, I worked at Rockcastle Florist. I started as a general dogsbody and worked my way up to floral designer, one of my all-time favorite jobs. I loved all the color and scent that greeted me every day at the shop, particularly in deep winter, but most of all I loved the reasons people buy flowers.

Mostly, flowers are ordered for a joyous occasion - a prom, a date, a wedding, a new baby, a token of love, an anniversary - and even on the sad occasions, people buy flowers to make someone else feel special. Funerals are the saddest occasions, but even then the flowers give comfort to the bereaved. I'd take the orders with tears pouring down my face and always made the arrangements too rich for the money spent - I'm a sucker for sadness.

We only had one customer in all the years I worked there who wanted to send a nasty message, dead roses to his ex-wife. We refused, listened to his tale of woe (which was considerable) and sent him on his way.

When I worked at the florist, I almost always had fresh flowers at home. When the flowers were a little past selling condition, they still were lovely to have at home for a day or two before they faded. Cut flowers are a wonderful luxury to me but, even here in California where they are relatively inexpensive, I can't afford them every day. If I won the lottery, I'd be our little town florist's best friend but, until then, I buy them only when we are having company for dinner.

Super Bowl Sunday is a good excuse. We served a simple, male-bonding sort of meal - steak, roast potatoes and steamed artichokes and didn't plan a dessert figuring the guys would have had plenty of popcorn or guacamole and chips during the game, but I seized on the opportunity to buy some fresh flowers for the house. Nothing except perhaps daffodils and California poppies says "Spring!" like tulips do. Simply lovely, a feast for the eyes.