Monday, August 9, 2010

Oh, yes. Tell it sister!

Below are the words of Emerson Merrick. She is so funny. I love her blog and she works for one of my most favorites, Saipua.

This summer at Elmwood, I almost lost interest in cutting flowers from the garden. I normally march, clippers in hand, through the fields within my first hour of arriving. This year I abstained from clippers for almost a week. I think I needed a vacation from flowers, if you can imagine.

The rigors florist-ing for a living are surprisingly intense. It's physically demanding, emotionally exhausting, stressful and sweaty. Before I started working at Saipua, I assumed flower shop life meant wearing vintage dresses and thoughtfully placing flowers in vases. No ma'am.

It's more like schlepping huge bales of tree branches, hernia inducing glass vases filled with water and covered in condensation, rose thorns and sharp clippers, long days and early, early mornings. Weekend after weekend, from April till October. That is to say, it isn't for the faint of heart.

(Plus gorgeous flowers, an awesome and funny boss, darling assistants, free coffee whenever I want, lots of romantic dudes poking around and hello, the opportunity to create something with my own two hands that brings people undiluted happiness, day after day after day....)

So basically, the sore feet are easily outweighed a million to one. *see, ahem, footnote.

A few days before I had to go back to the city I got my flower mojo back. I just walked around in a trance of New Hampshire happiness, arms full of weeds and flowers, for hours. I filled a house's worth of mason jars and jugs and pitchers, gathered blousy bouquets and whipped up flower crowns with wild clematis vines and garden roses. I went flower crazy and it felt so good.

*That being said, do not attempt to break in clogs during a 13 hour day of arranging. You will not be able to walk without pain for the rest of your natural life.

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