Tuesday, April 17, 2012


"Go ahead and start making the nosegays", my daughter said as she headed out toward the pier with 300 yards of tuille and organza. Suddenly I felt like Prissy in GWTW, "I don't know nothin' 'bout birthin' babies." or in this case making nosegays. Sure the florist showed me how three weeks ago. And that lesson consisted of, "These Lilies will work nicely in a nosegay for the mothers. Just put them together like this. And, add some of this (she was pointing to flowers in a bucket on the floor). And, maybe some of that (pointing to another bucket on the floor). It's really quite simple." Nobody told me I needed to be taking notes, much less that there would be a practical exam.

So I am standing there with the snippers, the floral tape, (the GD bucket of Mums), an assortment of flowers (including the Lilies) ready to create what the mother of the bride was going to carry with her as she walked down the aisle on her daughter's most important day. And, what would be a focal point of all the family pictures. No pressure there.

What the Hell was I going to do? What the Hell was I doing there in the first place? I looked at the clock. It was 2:30 and these nosegays had to be ready for the mothers no later than 3:30. I picked up some of the Lilies and bunched them together. As I did, the florist's instructions came back to me. There was a God. Then one petal, then a second dropped off one of the yellow Lilies as I was mixing them with other flowers. Satan also existed. I didn't have time for this foolishness, the flowers would just have to do.

I tightly bunched peach and yellow Lilies together and added status and other smaller flowers. The stems were wrapped tightly, taped, and each was placed in a vase of water to keep them fresh. (At the last minute we would wrap the stem in ribbon and pin it.) By the time I was finished at 3:10, I was a nervous wreck. Stepping back and looking at them, they looked pretty darn good, if I had to say so myself. As I admired my work, another Lily dropped a large petal.

It was a conspiracy. First it was the Mums and now the Lilies were joining forces. I best beware of the Irises, you know the Dutch, one never is sure which side they are on. I leave the flowers in their buckets to plot as they wish and head out to tell my daughter the nosegays are done. (And, so am I.)

By the time I get to the end of the pier, I have convinced myself that they are a disaster and are falling apart. I am assured that this is certainly not the case. (And, it is all in my head.) We walk back into the staging room, and I fully expect to see a pile of petals under each vase. But no, they are still standing there. And, everyone seems very pleased, even complimentary of my work. Oh, yeah of little faith. 

I learned a lot this past weekend, the most valuable lesson being I never want to do wedding flowers again.  Been there, done that, and I don't need the t-shirt.

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