My Grandad grew big, smelly, old fashioned English roses my absolutely favourite kind. I can see him now pruning them, spreading manure at their roots and talking away to them. I loved him so much.
Mum, my caring, much missed, lovely mum inherited his rose trees and took great care of them. When my children would go to hers to play in summer, which was often, they would come back with huge bunches of huge smelly roses wrapped at the base in silver foil. They got them from Grandma’s garden as a ‘treat’ for mummy. She was wonderful.
Dad was a great one for flowers. He spent many years working a flower stall though mainly he was a racecourse bookie. He always made sure mum had flowers in the house. No matter whether we had rent money or not we ALWAYS had flowers. He knew his way to her heart. I miss hearing him whistling as he would walk down the road carrying flowers.
Someone I loved very much once drew me a picture of flowers on a fireplace that looked just like my fireplace. They drew it so I would always have flowers on my fireplace. I cried.
My best friend at college loved flowers. Her mum loved to send flowers on birthday, to celebrate an exam or sometimes just to say I love you. I would be very jealous. She in return would send her parents flowers on their anniversary each year. Receiving flowers reminds me of her.
Jonny buys me flowers to say well done, I love you, on special memory days or celebratory days. I like them best of all.
Annalise and Frankie bring me in daises and buttercups from the garden too. They are so proud of themselves as they present their little offerings.
My favourite flowers are lavender and red poppies.
Flowers make you think about people don’t they?