Bouquets for special events are so meaningful. When flowers are gathered for weddings, funerals, anniversaries, or simple dinner parties, carefully curated bouquets add a special touch. Creating florals is also a way to honor something or someone meaningful.
Many times, we reflect on our history on a certain day or a moment dictated by the calendar. There are also times when the urge to show ancestral appreciation comes from the heart. On the most recent celebration of Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthday, I thought, if the opportunity to give him his flowers in real life, what would that bouquet look like? Where would I get the flowers? What vessel would I use, all from a mindset of one who had to create something out of nothing?
In the middle of January, what kind of flowers could I find to make a statement bouquet? What flowers would Dr. King appreciate? Was there a bouquet he would enjoy as he paused on this part of his journey? Stepping back in time, I mentally recreated what that might look like.
First, the vessel would be something from the China cabinet. In my youth, I remember Grandma opening the China cabinet on special occasions. She was looking for that special dish or bowl. The fancy dishes were always used as a way to show appreciation to visitors or family members. Grandma would carefully select a vessel that fit the occasion. I often wonder how she knew which one to choose?
When selecting flowers, Grandma would choose whatever was blooming in the yard. Hydrangeas were familiar fixtures in the yards of both grandmothers. My Mom’s mother would have pink and white hydrangeas along the front porch in front of the elephant ear plants. Dad’s mother would have Hydrangeas along the neighboring fence and neatly tucked at the foundation of the house. This was Grandma’s way to define property lines with beauty in mind. There was even one right at the gate in the front yard. All the grandkids loved standing on the frame of the wrought iron gate, where a gentle push would swing them back and forth. “Don’t you all swing into my bush and break the branches’, Grandma would yell from inside the house. W we skillfully continued to swing on that gate in our Sunday best. Grandma was able to enjoy every bloom.
In the middle of winter, there were no blooms in the yard. It was a sacrifice to purchase blooms from the store. Many stores in the African American community did not offer flowers. A funeral home or the Mothers of the Church might offer to help with repurposed, or artificial flowers. This was a common practice, if one were a domestic worker. In some communities, if there were African American florists , they often provided flowers in times of need. Some could afford this, and others simply could not. No matter the economics of the family, in my community, there was always a way to obtain a few flowers.
I had to imagine where I would go in my community to find flowers to honor my ancestors. My dad would drive my mom to Safeway in Cloverly, Maryland. Sometimes Mom would splurge on a bundle of flowers. Mom made the most beautiful arrangements using whatever was in the store, often mixing with whatever was in our yard. Sometimes, her best friend and our neighbor Pearl would offer cuttings as well.
Using memories of my Mom, I made a bouquet worthy of a smile…at least to me. The goal was to make an arrangement that would be worthy of a King.
Do you create flowers to honor someone important in your life? Were there flowers from the backyard or the store present to inspire your flower journey? I am glad to have an appreciation of simple beauty from the garden. It is the bouquet that keeps giving me life and the passion to encourage others to use whatever is on hand.
I wonder if my Camellias survived the snow. I need a few branches to celebrate my southern roots.
Teri, Cottage in the Court
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