My Life A Bit South of Normal

Monday, April 16, 2012

Yellow Mums - The Dirth of Me

I was tasked with a trip to the wholesale florist to place the order for the wedding flowers. My assignment was to find a variety of flowers that would work in the mason jars (no roses or daisies) in various colors, mainly blue and yellow. Also, flowers for the nosegays, boutonnieres, and the Calla lilies. Sounded simple to me. After all, there would be choices.

The wholesaler was most helpful. I gave them our budget (and list of needs and restrictions) and off to the cold room we went. "What about these carnations? They are a light blue and are very cost effecient."  To me, they fall in the daisy category. "I don't think so." "OK, well how about these Dutch irises? They're blue." "Perfect, how much?" When she gave me the price, I winced, this was only my first choice and I was already in sticker shock. 

And, so we went around the room, trying to balance color, variety and budget. My head was spinning. Had I chosen white Delphiniun or blue? I did tell her we didn't want Gladioli, right? And, why did I put peach and yellow lilies on the list? What pray tell were those green flowers that she says will give the arrangements a lot of pop? I said "No" to the Alstroemeria and I remembered the Calla lilies. I just kept telling her, the bride wants blue and yellow.

When we had finished in the cold room, I felt like I had been on a merry-go-round. I was trying to put all these flowers together in my mind. The florist made it sound easy making suggestions.  The final tally was a little below budget. There was a god. But wait, oh, the curly willow. We need curly willow.

I called my daughter when I got in the car (very proud of my job). Her first question,"What did you order?" "Well you know, a lot of flowers." "But what kinds?" "Different kinds," I answered as my mind went totally blank. I could not recall a thing I had looked at. "Oh, but they are blue and yellow. And, we have Calla lilies."

"What about the mothers' nosegays?" What about the mothers' nosegays? What nosegays, I thought to myself. Then I remembered the florist talking about the yellow and peach lilies for the nosegays. "Lilies for the nosegays." "Lilies?" "Yes, the florist showed me how to make them." Like I was going to remember what she told me several weeks from now, when I couldn't recall what I just saw ten minutes ago.

The morning of the wedding, we went to the florist to pick up the order of flowers. As they wheeled out these large buckets of fresh flowers, my daughter just said, "Please tell me, those are not what you picked out?" "Well, they have my name on them." "It's all yellow." And, looking at it 65% of the flowers were yellow. The only blue I could see were the Dutch irises. "And, what pray tell are these?" My daughter asked pointing to 5 large bunches (a good quarter of the order) of what looked like basic yellow mums - the most pedestrian flower, short of a carnation one could buy.

I could see the look on her face, as if to say, "And, I trusted you." This was worst than bad. I had failed miserably. Honestly, I didn't remember selecting those, much less five bunches. They were God awful. But we had no choice. So we paid for the flowers and headed back to the hotel. All I could see were yellow mums. 

Making arrangements in four dozen Mason jars was challenging enough. Each had to be light and airy, but yet colorful. I was tasked with putting the arrangements together. It was a challenge to make all these arrangements and best use the flowers we had, keep each one from looking ordinary, all the while dancing around a large bucket of  mums.

As I selected the flowers for each vase, I would judiciously try to stick one or two mums here and there, hoping the other flowers would over shadow them. It seemed like every time I went back to the bucket, there were even more mums than before. It was a conspiracy -  they seemed to be multiplying. If they would just go away, but no I had to live with that bucket of mums with every floral piece I did that day. 

I was given the simple task of ordering flowers and I had failed - miserably. As far as I was concerned, I never wanted to see another mum.  I hesitated going to bed that night for fear of dreams of yellow mums infesting the bed.

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