Monday Flowers and Winter Paperwhite Bulbs
One would hope in the absence of perils such as hunger, homelessness, or lovelessness, we would be happy. Too often our highly evolved selves teeter quite near the top of Maslow’s pyramid, and we find our needs not as simple as they could be. Happiness, self-esteem, and excitement should rule the day, or at the very least, we should not be unduly mired in ennui, ridden with anxiety and self-doubt. When we are unreasonably unwell, thank heavens we have people to tell us to take off our shit-colored glasses (thank you, Sebastian) and give ourselves a treat (thank you, Mom).
My treat lay at the flower shop. I bought a bouquet of heady roses that are the very pink of perfection and an armload of paperwhite bulbs to watch bloom through the winter months. On my walk back to the office, I passed a police officer on a handsome bay. “Lucky you, you got flowers,” he said. “Is it your birthday?” I went over to pet his horse, and his nose was velvety soft. “No, I just bought them for myself.” “Good for you. You gotta celebrate. Everyday above ground is a good day, right?” I smiled up at him. “Right,” I said.
Usually I turn to fortune cookies and horoscopes for dime store philosophy, but this police officer had spoken the truest words I had heard all day. Smiling to myself with gratitude, I took a turn and accidentally ended up on the wrong street. I admired the bathing suits in the window of Eres, envied a vintage red Schwinn locked to a stop sign, and sidestepped uneven cobblestones.
A random assortment of sensuous treats — nuzzling the horse, smelling my roses, discovering new streets worth exploring — had combined to create lenses that were a lot more rose-colored than shit-colored. I felt open to the world and all its unknown, unpredictable delights again.
The roses, their ivory petals tinged with pink, sit by my computer monitor and keep me sane from 9-5. The bulbs are taking root in my apartment. Using fabric remnants and leftover trimmings, I recycled some old soup and bean cans into impromptu flower pots.
For your own, glue fabric scraps or leftover wrapping papers unto a tin can and trim with sewing basket odds and ends. Then pour a bit of gravel in the bottom of each vessel you are using, place a bulb inside, and surround with more rocks about 3/4 of the way up the sides of the bulb until it is securely anchored. Watch over the weeks as they shoot up strong green stalks and then bloom into an intoxicating bouquet. Watch, too, as the slightest alterations in your routine can make a world of difference in your perspective.
michelle: what lovely blogging! i’m honored to be among the links referenced. and now i need to get me a coffee can and some bulbs… thanks!2 years ago
megan: you have no idea how much i needed that. too bad jenny is allergic to paperwhites. thank god for zappos, sun lamps, books, and the banger sisters!2 years ago
Luisa: I couldn’t agree more. Flowers, when sprung for, brighten up your entire existence! I don’t know why I don’t buy them more often…2 years ago
Sarah: Thanks, Michelle! I promise even your busy schedule can accommodate this low maintenance craft.
Megan, I think you ought to spring for an amaryllis bulb instead. And have you seen Raising Helen?
Luisa, I’ve given you the excuse you need to go buy yourself some flowers, I hope.2 years ago
michelle: yeah, i know you’re right, sarah. thx! i could do it when relaxing at the end of the day… maybe i’ll make that an ‘07 resolution!2 years ago
Agnes K: i love this post so much!2 years ago
megan: for some unknown reason, i saw it in the theater. i know - i must whip it. whip it good.2 years ago
molly: Maybe a silly question, but do you put any water in the can, or just gravel and rocks? Thanks for all the fun ideas!2 years ago
Sarah: Molly, An important detail! Yes, you should put some water in there to about the bottom of the bulb. You don’t want to let the bulb itself get too wet, though, because it can get moldy. Good question!2 years ago
Alison R.: I love this story so much. Flowers and a horse’s soft nose ARE the meaning of life. I really want my own paperwhites now, though my little cans would never turn out so sweetly as yours
2 years ago
agnes k: Oh, Sarah. You have no idea how that post put my day back on track yesterday. I hadn’t seen that Plath poem before (it hit like a punch)–and reading it reminded me how much I love her and how little I have been using that portion of my brain out in cubicle land–so I rushed right to Amazon and bought those diaries Ted Hughes finally realed in 2000 or whatever to reawaken my sad little head. For lunch I went to Whole Foods and wandered among the veggies and cut flowers until the smells filled my head with something more than this ugly self-pity. And afterward I went to a wonderful garden shop called J&M (website not worth a mention — but a great destination in Madison, NJ) and bought the tiniest little african violet plant for my desk. The juxtaposition of violet to my clunky grey PC is a bittersweet metaphor–but I knew my day had turned around when this notion made me laugh instead of cry.
I adore this blog. And I love that you not only gave me a great crafty idea (coworker gifts this year will be paperwhites — I just bought 30/$20 here http://www.hollandflora.com/index.cfm?PageID=4&FuseAction=ShowItem&ItemID=35601-2) but also a very honest and revealing entry that inspired me to take back my mood.2 years ago
Cordelia: I don’t know what the meaning behind welovebopbop.com is, and I don’t know how you guys found it, but it absolutely made my day!2 years ago
Cordelia: Oh dear. Nevermind. Sebastian is a genius.2 years ago
Meagan: I am desperate to recreate this adorable project to replace all of my Christmas arrangements with something cheery, but I’m in Canada in the dead of winter and can’t seem to find anywhere that has bulbs for sale.. does anyone have an idea where I might find some?1 year ago