Isn’t a green flower called a leaf? Part I

I grew up in a rose garden with tulips, orchids, philodendrons. My garden was literal not figurative. My mother owned a florist shop, The Rose Garden, until my sister was born when I was about five years old. Some of my earliest memories are of waking up from a nap amongst buckets of fresh flowers or the rush of the cold air filling my lungs when I stepped into the walk-in cooler where all the special flowers were kept.

[start dream music]

In all the years of dreaming about my wedding, I never thought once about the flowers. I assumed that would be the simplest part to the whole affair. When asked, I’ve told my friends, “Oh, my mother will handle it.” That came as no surprise to anyone.  She has a terrific reputation for elegant, ornate, breathtaking work.

[record screech]

That dream ended tonight. Reality set it.

“What do you want your flowers to look like?” said my mother. 

“I don’t know,” I replied. Her eyebrow raised and she sat there patiently but not pleased. This was not the first time we’d had this conversation but I’d always just ignored it for some other more pressing wedding detail. 

Then it struck me, I was dealing with a professional and I was not being a cooperative client.

“I just want them to be ‘green’.” I spurted out.

“Ok, that’s fine. But that may not be realistic.” She continued in her patient, stern tone. 

Frustrated I said, “It must be Mother. We have greened every other aspect to this wedding. We must find a solution for this as well. I will not waste fossil fuels for flowers. There has got to be a way we conquer this one.”

The conversation continued in this fashion. She produced magazine upon magazine in order to elicit what look, feel, style, texture, color palette I wanted. That brought progress. Two bouquets fit the image in my mind’s eye.  I wanted bold colors and textures that pulled together to create a clean, high style look.

I took a chance and asked, “Why don’t we just have dad go out and collect the stuff from the forest the week of the wedding?”

“There will be many important details that week. We cannot be running around in the woods looking for flowers that may or may not be in bloom the week of your wedding.  You do have 10 bridesmaids. And, we have a business to run Mandy,” she responded in a clearly displeased fashion.

I knew that was another strike out.

“Where exactly are we going to get these flowers from?” she inquired. “The flowers you like are not grown here. Tulips do not grow in the South. They grow in New England and Europe and are flown in.”

I relented a bit and admitted that I didn’t have the answer. “Ok. I will be fine if they come from the southeast.  I have heard from my friends in the local food space that there are greenhouses in Georgia that specifically grow flowers. Why don’t we call them and see what they will have in May?  Then we can let that drive what we use.” That has been my strategy in other parts of the wedding. I have traded off abundance in the name of quality and availability and its works great. Why not now?

Truce was reached.  I pledged to produce a list of Georgia growers tomorrow.  Then we must find growers that provide her with the level of confidence in choice and quantity she needs. If not, that’s another conversation for another day that I hope we don’t have to have.

I walked away having realized that flower arrangements for big events are like electricity- taken for granted until you flip the switch and it’s not there. And like the electric company, florists need reliable resources to produce their product. Green resources are not yet ubiquitous for producing electricity or grand flower arrangements.