Come October, with every moment of darkness, every drop of rain, every gust of wind, our work load increases.
Multitudes of weddings, baby showers, bridal showers and the dreaded homecoming dances.
What do other countries have to equal these?
The shop is filled with 9th graders, faces painted in their school colors, wearing clothes in the same shades, ordering boutonnieres while texting madly away. We had two different schools this week, so sometimes they were red, sometimes blue. Hats to match.
Mothers come to discuss in great detail the tie their son is wearing and the exact color of the date's dress. Pics are shot of the different colored sweet heart roses, ribbon samples are poured over and apparently painful decisions are made.
Then on Saturday they come to pick up their masterpieces. In droves. Each piece of work is inspected with great care, freshness of the flowers is discussed in excruciating detail, and occasionally they are rejected.
And my coworker Alicia, fingers covered with tiny cuts from twisting hundreds of pieces of wire, begins again, changing a ribbon color here, an entire new corsage there.
I do all the other work.
And then we stagger home, the cut, sometimes bleeding, often bruised floral warriors.
And what makes it better? Flowers of course.
I brought home 3 new friends.
High and Orange.
And Mathilda, GG's new best friend.
The roses went into a vase, I went into a bath, a pizza was ordered and a salad tossed.
Peace reigns, at least for the next two days.