Reading: The Last Precinct by Patricia Cornwell
Listening to: Waves rolling onto the beach
Getting ready: To start chapter one of a new book,
always the best time.
I love flowers, big bunches of brightly coloured ones. One of the things I miss since living out in the Marlborough Sounds is being able to wander down to the Saturday Market in Nelson to buy my flowers for the week. It's a great way to follow the seasons too. My absolute favourite, the Dutch Iris, is coming into season right now.
Flowers are rays of sunshine on a dull day, a pick me up when things aren't going right, and more importantly, the perfect gift. I give flowers to people more than anything else. They show love, care, sympathy, and of course, romance. Not that I'm being romantic to all those people I send them to!
My husband thinks I'm nuts sending people flowers. "They don't last." But I say they put a smile on the face of the recipient, and a drop of warmth in the heart. They say someone cares about you. And my man should know. Not long after I moved in with him I sent him a bunch at work just because I could, to say Hi there, I'm in your life now. He owned a printing business along with another guy, and when these flowers arrived a sales rep and a client were there also, all good blokes, if you know what I mean. My "bloke" was apparently stunned, then, being him, a little embarrassed. Why hadn't I sent them to the house where these guys wouldn't have seen them? Then the sales rep told him, apparently very wistfully, that he'd been married nearly thirty years and never once had he been sent flowers. Suddenly my man admitted it was the coolest thing.
Note to self, put more flowers in my books.
Have any of you sent your man flowers? What was their reaction?