I have only come lately to the delights of flower arranging. Forgive the pun but yes, I am a late bloomer. For many years, I thought that faffing around with flowers was an unneccessary indulgence. And as adamant as I was that it was an accomplishment more suited to the Victorian age, I am now a most fervent convert. There is something so supremely meditative about choosing what blooms will delight my senses the most and then the careful, or in my inexperienced case, the not so careful arranging in a suitable vessel.
I do realize that carnations have a humble reputation as being cheap and ubiquitous but, at $3.50 for a large bunch at the local flower shop, I didn't mind. And I found something quite charming in their pink frilly unpretentiousness.
And humble or not, a perfect bloom can elevate something quite simple and mundane to the level of the sublime.
Ordinarily, I am not the most serene of persons as I am easily flustered but the cool composure inherent in the silky petals makes me feel wonderfully serene and ladylike as I indulge in arranging and rearranging bouquets of flowers.
I admit now that, in this rough and tumble world, this particular accomplishment of the Chatelaine of the home to be a most worthy one indeed.
Linking up to A Beach Cottage, Between Naps On The Porch, My Romantic Home and Serenity Now.