On Sundays We Buy Flowers

At the beginning of the summer, I decided that I would keep my new room in fresh flowers every week.

I want to live in a lovely place; to have some small luxury that I can come home to and say "ah. this is my home. I am glad I live here."

So on Sundays I buy flowers.

I go to the Kroger by church on my way home, and select a bouquet.

Its usually something with daisies. (because of you've got mail, obviously)

I have two saved iced coffee bottles from everyone's favorite commercial coffee shop.
I've been meaning to paint them with milk paint, to cover up offending labels. I'll get there eventually.

Some how I missed the classes on The Airs and Graces of Fine Ladies: Flower Arrangeing
so I just stick them in a bottle till they look good.

One goes on my dresser.

The other next to my bed.

When trying to make my house home-y or trying to create the life I long to have, I find myself falling back to the simple wisdom of a old book-friend.
“People always think that happiness is a faraway thing," thought Francie, "something complicated and hard to get. Yet, what little things can make it up; a place of shelter when it rains - a cup of strong hot coffee when you're blue; for a man, a cigarette for contentment; a book to read when you're alone - just to be with someone you love. Those things make happiness.”
 ― Betty Smith, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
My flowers are the littlest thing, but their influence goes a long, long way.

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