Emergency roadside stop. I screamed ‘pull over!’ from the backseat and the family road trip came to a screeching halt in front of the most spectacular sunflower field I have ever seen.
The peony. So beautiful with its delicately tufted blooms. I don’t deserve this flower because every time I see it I go into Beavis and Butthead mode and think ‘Peony. Pee on me. Heh-heh.’ Shameful, but true. I am certain that the Greek god Paeon, the namesake of the peony flower, is going to bring a wrath upon me for my uncontrollable childish behavior. To that I say, Hey man, chill out. There’s a fur rug and flowers here. You’re really going to harsh my mellow with a wrath.
Flowers for breakfast. It’s how you fuel a love machine.
7:15am Sunday. Are these wedding flowers as hungover as I am? Coffee. Stat.
My big bowl of sunshine. Daffodils don’t have a reason to be happy. In fact, they have a lifespan of just a few days and inside their happy little stems sits a poison that’s lethal to puppies. Imagine not being able to coexist with puppies for the few days you have on Earth. Still, everyday daffodils wake up bright and sunny, smiling for no reason at all. I’m going to do the same.
Dos ranunculus. Ranunculi. Ranunculuvulongtime.
Tulips are not good for time management. They beg me to linger in the morning and make me late to work, like a lover who won’t take no for an answer.
Daffodils, the anti-jury duty. I spent quite a bit of time in the dungeon of San Francisco’s civil courthouse today. It’s a dark, dank room of no windows, tense strangers and a stern judge. The place designed to uphold freedom and justice felt just like prison. It was lovely to come home to my new happy friends. Daffodils are always my cue that spring is coming and these are the first I’ve spotted this year. The ray of sunshine came when I needed it most.
Copycat flowers. Buckets of single stem flowers usually inspire me. Today, they exhausted me. I couldn’t make a decision to save my life. So I scanned the florist shop for any sort of encouragement and found this little number. Thank you Flower Lady, for letting me cramp your style. More importantly, for saving me from the nightmare of a grocery store bouquet.
Aloha! I got these prehistoric gems at a local farmer’s market here on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, fittingly called the garden island. They were a whopping five bucks for the bunch. I had to sweet talk the folks in housekeeping to find a vase for me. Now our little hale is spilling over with fresh tropical fruit and bright flowers on the table.
My mom and I explore a new island every few years to celebrate our birthdays, which are five days apart. It’s an adventure in every sense of the word. Have you ever kayaked with your mother? Better yet, have you ever fired your mother from the kayak? If it weren’t for Hawaii, I wouldn’t get to hear stories about how she and my dad used to raise and pluck her their own chickens and ate chicken dumplings every Sunday. I only hope that when I have a daughter, I too will wisely use her captive attention on a boat to pass down wisdoms. It wasn’t until I was in the middle of the Pacific Ocean that my mom chose to tell me, “Kid, when you lose your figure and your looks, it’s going to be a whole new world.”
Happy Pride from the gay old Gladiolus.
It was named after the Roman Gladiators because its flower stock resembles sword blades. It’s a warrior’s flower. It’s also a drag queen’s flower. The lovely Dame Edna hands these beauties out after every show.
Today, warriors, drag queens and other curiosities unite at San Francisco Pride. I’m proud to be 50% gay 100% of the time.
Dueling baby showers. For Mother’s Day weekend, I flew out from SF to ride the Brooklyn baby shower circuit. Two mommies-to-be exchanged flower duties for the other’s baby shower. It was a great study in flowerology. Southerner vs. Yankee, backyard bbq vs. indoor modern, bright and colorful vs. classic and monochrome. Each was perfect in every way. Like mother, like daughter, like girlfriends.
Flowers for Josslyn from Char. It’s been one of those weeks - the kind when everything changes. Trouble is, I don’t handle change well. I’m into routine, loyal friends, and someone to pick up the phone when I call home. I’m also from Texas, which means I grew up in the country dodging rattlesnakes and getting bucked off ornery horses. It teaches you a certain sense of self that comes in handy during times like these. Another very brave, very strong Texas woman sent me these flowers in the aftermath of my week. Thank you Char, from the bottom of my Tex-Mex aching heart.
I think our beloved Ann Richards said it best: I have very strong feelings about how you lead your life. You always look ahead. You never look back.
Onto the next rodeo!
Super freesia. Super Easter. Sunrise service, rain, Amazing Grace on the bagpipes, Philz coffee, brunch party, mimosa, mimosa, mimosa, sunshine, Delores Park, Hunky Jesus contest, Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, Nick’s Crispy Tacos, Happy Super Easter from San Francisco!
My weekend lover. Daffodils make everything bright and new again. For three days, it’s nothing but pure sunshiny fun. Knowing these flowers come with a built-in expiration date makes me appreciate them even more. Daffodils remind me to live in the moment, especially when life brings suntan-lotion massages from the hands of an attractive new friend. Don’t think, just enjoy.
