East of Elmgrove

The Joy of Cut Flowers

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I once read about a woman who despised cut flowers. It’s indulgent, she said, to cultivate something for the purpose of ending its life, at least above ground. Suitors who brought her bouquets were met with an icy glare. She sent them on their way, roses in hand. I get her point – let the petals die in their own bed, not on a stranger’s tabletop – but the French love cut flowers, and they know how to live. Let us defer to the French on matters of beauty and taste.

I came late to discovering the joy of cut, or loose, flowers. Oh sure, I got tulips and whatnot when I was young and unfettered, but they never really impressed me all that much. Returning phone calls, or calling at all after the first date – now, that was a game-changer. Then I became a gardener and flowers cast their spell. A sign I spotted one day at the flower shop at Eastside Market spoke to me: “Life is about flowers. Flowers are about life.” A cliché, but such musings are often true.

So many places on the East Side to buy flowers; where to begin? I will start at the aforementioned Eastside Market, which made a wise choice putting a flower shop at the entrance during renovations. A burst of color greets us and lifts our spirits, especially in the dark days of a New England winter. It’s one-stop shopping – milk and daisies cuddling in the cart. My husband and two boys buy flowers there for yours truly. For Mother’s Day, my firstborn gave me thistle and golden rod, and my other son celebrated the occasion with white tulips. I enjoyed the bouquets for weeks, and when they faded I put them to rest under the white birch in our backyard.

Whole Foods, the one on Pitman, also has fine flowers. The store on North Main has a lovely flower shop, but I’m partial to the smaller store, where I go to eat chocolate and cheese at the cafe tables outside. Again, flowers welcome you at the entrance. I can’t identify them, and don’t care to. I just buy what seizes me.

Only the soulless can pass without being moved by these offerings from the Hound of Heaven.

My son bought flowers for his prom date there. Let me rephrase that: I bought flowers for his prom date there. Truth be told, I bought them elsewhere and, in a panic, rushed to the Pitman Whole Foods, but I’m getting ahead of myself.

The story begins with my son’s plan to go to a prom. I told him he needed to get flowers for his date. He said, “Oh.” I called my sister for guidance. She said, Take over and buy a corsage. I Googled “corsage.” I know the young woman and figured she would prefer a bouquet. I called City Gardens Flower Shop on Wickenden. I told the florist to please design something “earthy.” I said, “She is not a pink person.” A few days later, I picked up the bouquet. The flowers were orange and yellow, with oval-shaped green leaves shooting hither and yon. It was stunning, but it was not a prom bouquet. I panicked. The prom was that night. I rushed to Whole Foods, where the florist made an elegant bouquet of white roses and wrapped the stems in a navy blue ribbon to match the prom dress. The orange flowers relocated to the kitchen table. The white roses danced the night away. I am forever grateful to the Whole Foods florist for her kindness – and humor.

My affection for flowers is making me more observant of the natural world. I’ve discovered that weeds, or what we’ve been told by the experts are weeds, flower with the best of them. You can find them everywhere – in your backyard, on a riverbank, in a crack in the driveway. Resist the urge to pluck weeds. Leave them be. Some will bring you buttercups, others tiny lavender beauties that fit nicely in an old honey jar. Two stems are plenty to grace your day.

Eastside Market, Elizabeth Rau, East Side Monthly, East of Elmgrove, Whole Foods, City Gardens Flower Shop

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