I once devised a short play at college all about personalities that we could map to the meaning behind flowers. It was all very 'clever' (or so we thought at the time), but whilst I can't remember the exact content of the piece I remember clearly how we agreed how important flowers were...
And yet I rarely get them. Not for my birthday, not for an anniversary. I remained decidedly flower-less.
But finally, after all the hints, tips, clues and simple downright open asking, the Hubby has finally bought me flowers!
It's not that he doesn't buy me gifts, he does! He's wonderful! He's very thoughtful, and a big romantic. He surprises me with chocolate, buys books to entertain me and treats me to little things he thinks that would make me smile, but for some reason he's just never bought me flowers... Or at least not for a long while...
I remember when we first got together, each Valentine's Day Hubby would buy me a red rose for every year we'd been together. A wonderful thought! But it did get very expensive after we broke the half-dozen mark... And so gradually that tradition fizzled out.
I've watched over the last 18months when my colleagues have been sent flowers by their partners to our office - for birthdays, anniversaries, and congratulations gifts - knowing that the delivery won't be for me. And that's been absolutely fine: I completely resent how much flowers cost if you get them delivered after all... But I do really enjoy looking at a bunch of flowers, or a little plant and knowing that it's means someone was thinking about me.
Flowers are funny things. Nothing about them quite adds up. Culturally we look down on garage-forecourt flowers, and yet people still enjoy receiving them. We love their colours and scents, and so we cut them and bring them indoors to watch them die...
And yet, flowers mean so much. They so easily become symbolic; A dear friend passed away a few years ago, and I will never be able to look at yellow roses without thinking of her. They were the theme of her funeral, never something I associated with her in life, but after she was gone yellow roses seem to be everywhere - a gentle reminder of happy times and her vibrant life. I hope one day, when Hubby and I have our own home we'll dedicate a corner of our garden to a bush of yellow roses. I love the idea of something physical taking root, and growing to represent the friend we lost, but the friendship we still hold firmly to. That way our memories can continue to mature.
In the meantime, I'll focus my energies on tending the little plant Hubby has just bought me. It's sitting pride of place in the living room and I even remembered to water it this evening! But for however long I manage to keep my little plant growing, every time I look at it I'll smile. For my Hubby saw it, and thought of me.
And yet I rarely get them. Not for my birthday, not for an anniversary. I remained decidedly flower-less.
But finally, after all the hints, tips, clues and simple downright open asking, the Hubby has finally bought me flowers!
It's not that he doesn't buy me gifts, he does! He's wonderful! He's very thoughtful, and a big romantic. He surprises me with chocolate, buys books to entertain me and treats me to little things he thinks that would make me smile, but for some reason he's just never bought me flowers... Or at least not for a long while...
I remember when we first got together, each Valentine's Day Hubby would buy me a red rose for every year we'd been together. A wonderful thought! But it did get very expensive after we broke the half-dozen mark... And so gradually that tradition fizzled out.
I've watched over the last 18months when my colleagues have been sent flowers by their partners to our office - for birthdays, anniversaries, and congratulations gifts - knowing that the delivery won't be for me. And that's been absolutely fine: I completely resent how much flowers cost if you get them delivered after all... But I do really enjoy looking at a bunch of flowers, or a little plant and knowing that it's means someone was thinking about me.
Flowers are funny things. Nothing about them quite adds up. Culturally we look down on garage-forecourt flowers, and yet people still enjoy receiving them. We love their colours and scents, and so we cut them and bring them indoors to watch them die...
And yet, flowers mean so much. They so easily become symbolic; A dear friend passed away a few years ago, and I will never be able to look at yellow roses without thinking of her. They were the theme of her funeral, never something I associated with her in life, but after she was gone yellow roses seem to be everywhere - a gentle reminder of happy times and her vibrant life. I hope one day, when Hubby and I have our own home we'll dedicate a corner of our garden to a bush of yellow roses. I love the idea of something physical taking root, and growing to represent the friend we lost, but the friendship we still hold firmly to. That way our memories can continue to mature.
In the meantime, I'll focus my energies on tending the little plant Hubby has just bought me. It's sitting pride of place in the living room and I even remembered to water it this evening! But for however long I manage to keep my little plant growing, every time I look at it I'll smile. For my Hubby saw it, and thought of me.
