Debby Does…

“Where flowers bloom so does hope.”—Lady Bird Johnson

I don’t really go around quoting Lady Bird Johnson, but I do think of her every time I pass those huge swaths of wildflowers along the Garden State Parkway or other roads. I know her love of flowers lives on through those initiatives. As a matter of fact, you can even buy wildflower seed packets from the Parkway: https://www.gspwildflowers.com/shop. I may even take some to Indiana with me.

When we moved to this home in 2021, it was a matter of circumstance and situation, not choice. That is well documented, and the real estate market insanity left us with few options. Thankfully, this was the right one and this home has loved us deeply.

Moving out here, to a more rural area, opened us up to new possibilities in terms of farms, local produce, and local flowers. I had not really considered how incredible it would be to buy something where it was grown. Whether it was participating in a pork share, learning about the deliciousness of the fresh whole chicken, or finding new mushrooms with which to top our homemade pizza, we were hooked! We jumped into evening concerts on farms with twinkling lights bedecking the barn rafters and local charcuterie boxes and brewers providing the sustenance. We drove deep into the garden part of the Garden State to get some of the best oysters and craft food imaginable, and sat in the sunshine at a picnic table moaning over each orgasmic bite. It’s been so much fun to discover all of these special and local spots.

The Sprout & Thicket Flower Farm had an impact on me that was unexpected. In the fall of 2021, I had gone back to school in a “post” Covid, hybrid world which meant visiting my mom in assisted living was difficult. I did not get to see her nearly enough, which broke my heart and made the clouds descend. A few weeks before school started, I signed up for a flower subscription that provided weekly bouquets of dahlias each Friday. Jim picked them up for me each time, so when I came home from school at the end of another long, sad week, they were there. Wrapped in brown paper and waiting for me to put them in a beautiful pottery vase from our wedding gifts, those dahlias reminded me that sunshine was still there. I mean, without it, how would those dahlias be so radiant and stunning? I think they might be my favorite flowers. There’s a depth to them and a bit of gravitas that feels just right to me.

I continued to order flower subscriptions from the farm and I was never disappointed. I was finding my way back to the sunshine with each bloom. Today, I’ve got my eye on the two tulip bouquets that Jim picked up for me. I cannot wait to watch them bloom and take their daily journey from peak to spent. I mean, isn’t that what we do every day? We wake, we bloom, we rest, and we start again. I’m happy to think of myself as a flower that goes from dormant to showstopper to rest each day. And, please know, I’m taking some liberties with biology and horticulture here to satisfy my own metaphors and figurative language.

One of the things that I learned from my flower subscription experience was how important it is to buy fresh, local flowers. I mean, I admit to having bought flowers at my local grocery store, especially when local flowers are not available, but then I’m contributing to the problem. These flowers that we buy at the grocery store are grown, largely, in South America. Women and children make up the bulk of the workforce in countries ravaged by guerilla warfare. They work for minimum wage with no breaks, no insurance, no time off. They suffer repetitive stress injuries and endure sexual harassment from male bosses. Your flowers from Kroger are grown, assembled, and packaged overseas by people with no other opportunity or hope in countries that can no longer sustain themselves in their traditional ways. While great minds and greater solutions are needed there, our obsession with grocery store flowers lines the pockets of store chain CEO’s. The gross margin profit for those grocery flowers is 47% and none of that is going to those kids and women in the fields and greenhouses.

I know you probably didn’t want a lesson here, but, as my dear friend says, “once a teacher, always a teacher”. Depending on where you live, there are lots of flower farmers. At the very least, stop by your local florist and ask for what’s locally grown. Check out the weekend farmers’ market and ask about your flowers. It matters. These local growers are a vital part of what’s “American made”.

When we move to the town with Bloom in its name, I’ll be seeking out my local flower farmer to fill our new home with fresh, local blooms. I can’t think of any better way to start anew than with flowers!

Maybe I’ll even bloom again in Bloomington!