Cuttings, Confections, and Memories of Mother

Crystal vase with fresh cut white lillies set alongside crystal bowl filled with fancy chocolates.

Exceptional care and thought go into choosing the flowers I bring home from the florist each week - not only how they please me, but more importantly how they might please a visitor. Considering the pleasure of others is such a critical issue with me. It makes the choice process much more enjoyable.

In a tall crystal vase half filled with fresh, clean water I always place an arrangement of cut long stems in the center of the round oak table. This week they were sunflowers. So, I decided on the avocado green linen cloth. It seemed to blend so well with the greens in the large sunflower painting. To bring the yellow of the painting’s huge flowers out into the room, I topped the table linen with a smaller square cloth, bright yellow, slightly accented with green leaves and small red berries.

On the antique secretary I always place a vase with white flowers emerging from a spray of dark greenery. This week they were carnations. Like the white tulips before them, the placement of white flowers is not only meant to add fragrant beauty, but to also honor the old oak piece and the memory of its former owner – my mother. A very dear companion to the white floral arrangement is a gilded antique china cup, one of the last remaining from Mom’s collection. I keep it filled with chocolate confections – like those I recall her favoring.

And, outside between the balcony and the wall of woodsy greens, I typically interrupt the view with colorful, large flowers. This time, the choice was Gerber daisies: orange, yellow, red, and white, in a copper vase placed upon the tiled-top, wrought iron table. These flowers add a lively spirit which is simultaneously enjoyed from within and without.

The flowers have held their beauty well and have been a personal delight for a whole week. It’s time to return today to the florist and repeat the selection process. Of course, I’ll think of delighting a friend as I make my choices. Perhaps, this will be the week someone will happen by for a visit. But for now, when peering through the glass cooler doors for white flowers, I can expect to be visited again by many loving memories, one of which never fails to remind me to bring home more chocolates.

Mom visiting me in Zaragoza, Spain in 1973