There are seven words that a southern girl loves to hear. These words bring peace to her soul and make her realize that, yes, her Daddy was right. The world can be her oyster after all. And, most of the time she gets her way without dealing with some plough mud* and a knife or two. So when I heard those words yesterday, "Now, honey don't you worry about that," from the lips of my Daryl, our flamboyant but extremely talented florist, I knew that all would be right with the world.
I have worked my way down the list to "Flowers". And, I knew I could either meet with Daryl yesterday or it would be March before he came up for air and back to his senses after the crush of Valentine's Day. So into his shop I went and showed him the pictures of the arrangements my daughter had seen with the cabbage. "Oh, my dear that is the coming rage. Why just now," and he pointed to his computer screen, "In my trend updates they are starting to mention cabbage - cabbage and succulents." "No succulents, I have no desire for cactus." "Oh, it's not like that. Anyway, this winter I did a wedding for this young lady, she wanted all neutrals, it was white and green. And, I used white flowers, cabbage and ivy. I must say it was to die for." (I was so glad he didn't.)
I got him back to the wedding at hand and we discussed other flowers, colors, and numbers. "And when is the wedding?" "April 20th," I said fearing he was going to tell me he was taking that month off to travel to France on a cruise with Cher or Kathy Griffen. "Oh, that's a great time. Everything we want is in season. Well, almost everything, but we'll deal with that." And, that was when he said the magical words and set my heart at ease.
Now, I realize nothing has been done, And, I am aware there are a thousand and one things that can go wrong between now and then, just dealing with the flowers alone. However, now, for a month or so, I can live in ignorant bliss that at least the flowers are taken care of. I'll take solace in anything I can.
* If you are not familiar with it, this is pronounced (plŭff mŭd) and is the rich dark gray mud where one finds the oyster beds.