Flowers

I love cut flowers. What woman doesn't. These days I don't get them unless I buy them for myself. In the old days, Ray would bring me flowers every Friday night. Nothing flash just the sort of weird coloured collection you get from the local petrol station only he bought them from a guy in a ute who used to tweak the guilt of passing male motorists and cause them to stop and purchase a $10 bunch for their wives or girlfriends. It worked. Then on birthdays, Mother's day and anniversaries I'd be embarrassed in a delightful way as huge arrangements would be delivered to work and I'd be drawn to reception by a loud announcement and surrounded by giggly women asking who the fragrant stems were from. Ray again. He never forgot. Even through the many funerals we've had over past years, fabulous bouquets have adorned the piano and it seemed a shame that so much money was spent on such extravagance which could not be appreciated during the saddest of times. When my dad died, we asked people not to send flowers but to donate to the Cancer Council and the house looked unusually empty as only a few defiant mourners sent their gorgeous tributes.

It's too hot for cut flowers to survive long in the summer, especially since we don't have air conditioning. In fact a fantastic thick bunch of variegated roses that Babysis bought for Babybro's 25th Anniversary in February literally wilted before our eyes on a 35 degree day. Such a shame as they had real fragrance, something unusual these days when roses are bred for looks rather than their scent.

These days I buy flowers for myself although occasionally if I'm feeling blue or a 'thank you' is in the air, ClareBear or DrummerBoy will indulge me. Usually with Lilliums of some kind, they last a fortnight and provide beautiful waxy colour in my plain glass vase on the kitchen bench. During the summer, it contains good quality but still fake silk flowers that never wilt but are now looking like they need a dust. (something not quite right about that).

Tomorrow is Mother's Day in the southern hemisphere so maybe i'll get a bunch of flowers - then again, maybe I'll get a new dish rack . . . which is what I, the ever practical and pragmatic mother, have requested. For some reason the chrysanthemum has become the flower of choice on mother's day. I don't like them, they're boring and yellow and white and smell like cat pee. But we're having breakfast in a cafe within a nursery with BabySis and ThePlumber out our way in the morning, so I might just lash out and buy myself a bunch of something fragrant. For the rest of you mums out there, have a wonderful day and spoil yourself or get someone to spoil you. It's only one day a year but we deserve it! Happy Mother's Day.