As I came back from my daily walk to the beach this morning (still can’t quite believe that ‘I’, ‘daily’ and ‘beach’ all fit into the same sentence) I first smelt, then saw, these beautiful jonquils. I’ve always struggled to feel comfortable buying flowers for myself but this morning I have come to the conclusion that this is a new habit I am going to make.
There are a whole host of reasons why I say I have struggled. Part of me says that I shouldn’t waste money on something so selfish and decadent. Another says that with a joint account these days, I should only have flowers if Paul decides to buy them for me. It wasn’t any simpler when I lived on my own though – I couldn’t help but feel a bit of a sad case buying them for myself.
Being a gardener, it also seems that I should be growing my own flowers, not buying them. If I am going to be so frivolous with something that is purely for my pleasure, then surely I should at least be buying the bulbs that will bring flowers year after year after year.
But today the sun was shining and I thought I would throw caution to the wind with my $6. I walked into the shop with that guilty look on my face and passed over the money. The lovely lady wrapped them beautifully and I walked the last section home holding my gorgeous package in front of me.
As I walked along, I felt as though I should really be taking them to a friend. Perhaps a ‘thank you’, a ‘get well’ or a ‘sorry you are having a hard time’ offering. But I also walked with a spring in my step, overjoyed that I had something so pretty in my hands.
The reality is that Paul will be thrilled with my flowers, that is on the very off chance that he actually notices them. His wife is happy (happy wife, happy life), he hasn’t had to go to the florist (or even ask Val, his extraordinarily efficient Executive Assistant, to order them for me – oh the romance), he hasn’t had to lug bags of cow manure home from Bunnings for me to grow them and best of all, he doesn’t have the ear ache of me complaining that we really don’t have a big enough garden for all the plants I want to grow.
I carefully unwrap my package, choose a vase that a dear friend gave to me, cut the stems, tidy my desk a little and place them in the centre. I now have at least a week of delicious scent, visual beauty and a reminder of my sweet friend in Canberra.
How can that not be the perfect way to start the week?