On the usefulness of flowers

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted a home filled with flowers. And for a long time, I thought that it made me high-maintenance (which isn't always necessarily a bad thing and most of the time is an excuse for partners to be lazy and selfish, but that's a whole other can of worms), so I tried to pinpoint what it was about flowers that seemed to speak, as it were, my language. To see if I could fix my obsession.

Is it because my dad would go into our garden regularly and cut fresh flowers to put on my mom's desk? Is it because in high school, when he knew I was having a rough week, he would surprise me with bouquets at the kitchen table? Is it because the most popular girls in school always had flowers delivered to their desks on Valentine's Day, from secret and sometimes not-so-secret admirers?

See, the more I thought about it, the more it felt like everything about me adds up to flowers on the windowsill, the kitchen counters, the bedside table. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that my insatiable desire to have a home filled with flowers is not so much about flowers symbolizing feminine normalcy as it is about flowers bringing life to a place.

I know some people think that flowers are pointless, that it's counter-productive to essentially kill something for the purpose of making something else prettier, but I'm not so sure. I see flowers and I think about life, in all its stages. I think about walks through parks and gardens and down to the neighborhood grocery store. I think about brightening that which is somber with that which is brilliant. I think that creating an indoors that incorporates the outdoors is not only nice, but that it is also purposeful, because we are creating spaces that allow us to breathe more deeply.

There are three bunches of flowers in our apartment right now; one fake, a leftover decoration from our wedding, the other two gifts from Stephen. When I see them, I don't just see romance and pursuit and all the too-cheesy things we so often associate with flowers. I see myself, reflected in each petal, full of life, flourishing and blossoming and sometimes, for a day or two, wilting.

Flowers are more than just tokens of appreciation. They're tokens of life. So I'm giving myself over, wholeheartedly, to this wish for a home filled with flowers. Because I want our home to always, always, always be filled with life.

A wedding post

As most of you know, Stephen and I had the pleasure of getting married one month ago. And even though most of my readers will have seen pictures via Facebook, I couldn't resist using this week as an opportunity to celebrate one month of marriage, receiving our wedding pictures, and the best early Christmas gift I could have imagined - my husband.

I think in a lot of ways, one of my favorite parts of the day was how calm I was and how jittery Stephen was. See, I get overexcited easily, and it's always obvious. Stephen is nonchalant, always. The day we got engaged, he kept saying, "I'm excited," without even smiling, while I was a bundle of laughter. On our wedding day, I remember being more excited than I imagined, but also completely calm. That certainty of this is it and this is right kept me quiet and still, while people told me countless times how restless Stephen was. I love that image of him, pacing, lying down on the floor, fidgeting - so excited that he actually couldn't contain himself. And I loved being on the other side of the spectrum - excited to the point of stillness.

Call me crazy, but it was almost as if the first part of our wedding day was experiencing love the way the other person normally experiences it. Giving us both a never before had taste of each other.

We kept it small, with just under 70 guests, and it was absolutely perfect. A smaller guest list allowed Stephen and me to really celebrate with everyone and to enjoy to the fullest this day-of-all-days. It rained. It poured, and we learned that wet wedding days are considered good luck because wet knots are difficult to untie. We embraced the dreariness, knowing our venue offered the perfect indoor option, and that the sky would create a dreamy backdrop for pictures.

We danced (though we both wish we'd danced more), we ate delicious cake, and we had the time of our lives. I've always been a little iffy of brides who claim their wedding day was the best day of their life, because I feel like a life together should be filled with best days rather than limited to just one, but at least for the time being, this was the best day.

I became a wife. I gained a husband. We started a journey that is glorious and fulfilling in so many ways, both expected and unexpected, and I can't wait to see what other best days fill up our marriage.

All photos, except the very first, were taken by Candice Emerson, of C. Hope Photography.