The wild weaving together
of daydreams, flowers, and cats
Devon
Floral Artisan
“Do you suppose she’s a wildflower?” – Lewis Carroll, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
Throughout my life, I've always loved flowers. But probably not in the same way as most girls. If a date brought me roses, I'd politely accept them, of course, but, as my husband well knows, it's the wildflower-gifters that get me every time. I suppose I feel a kinship, especially towards dandelions. They spring up wherever they damn well please and grow and live their lives as the first food of spring for the bees. When they're finished with their time here, they turn into beautiful dandelion dust and simply blow away. I can't think of a better guide for how to live one's life, and give purpose to your own existence.
When I inherited my first flower shop from a friend, I had no idea what I was doing. She quickly trained me, allowing me to hone my natural instincts, and I was suddenly a florist! Unfortunately, that first venture didn't last very long. My daughter was three at the time and, as I hadn't been planning on taking over a business at that point, I had no actual working capital. So, when the street my shop was on got blocked for several months due to construction, of course right around Valentine's Day, and the landlord decided it was a great time to raise the rent, I called it quits.
But I could never get those floral thoughts out of my mind. If an actor has greasepaint in his veins, then I have petals in my brain! Years have gone by, and I've had other adventures, including owning a wine bar with my husband. We'd always meant to bring in the flowers, too, but alas, COVID put an end to that before we had the chance.
And so here I am, wanting to make a go of it again, but this time from my very own home, our darling farmhouse-in-the-city. I have no intention of competing with any local florists. They can do their thing and I will happily do mine. I'm not big on doing weddings, but if you're a bride and you like my style, then we may be able to work together. But the one thing I've learned over the years is to not try to be something I'm not. I will always be that dandelion in the crack on the sidewalk while the roses bloom on their trellis.
So, if you happen to feel a kinship to those flowers that always tough it out and find ways to bring beauty to this world, if you prefer simplicity to glamor, and especially if you make wishes on dandelions, then you should visit my little shop. You'll probably feel right at home here.
Dahlia
March 13, 2005 - December 9, 2025
Feral Inspiration
"If animals could speak, the dog would be a blundering outspoken fellow; but the cat would have the rare grace of never saying a word too much." –
Mark Twain
My sweet and spicy Dahlia. She was with me since that first flower shop all those years ago. She made it to the ripe old age of 20 (nearly 21) and lived every day on her own terms. This is an older photo of her, where you can see how she became the inspiration for my logo, which was created by my wonderfully talented husband.
Dahlia was born without her right front leg. There was a shoulder socket there, but no arm grew out of it. Her very feral momma came to my parents' house to have her four kittens. I had recently lost my own cat, Seamus, a beautiful Flame Point Siamese with a one-of-a-kind personality, and was entirely heartbroken. My mom told me about the kittens, hinting that I might want to meet them just to see if I maybe bonded with one. I wasn't sure, but paid them a visit, anyway. When I rounded the corner of the house, I very briefly saw four kittens, then three scattered and I was left face-to-feet with a wild, hissing, three-legged little furball blocking my path in a very "You shall not pass" sort of way. I fell immediately in love and the next month she was living at the flower shop, keeping me company while I worked, often late into the night.
Her favorite day was always the day we'd get our flower deliveries. I'd process the flowers, trimming stems and removing leaves before placing them into the cooler. Dahlia was happy to help, constantly jumping into the piles of leaves, pouncing into the empty flower boxes, and never failing to make me laugh, no matter how stressful the day became. When she wasn't scurrying about the back of the shop, she'd be up in the front window, entertaining passers-by with her antics. Soon, I was receiving more calls about my shop cat than I was about the flowers!
All these years later, when she moved into our farmhouse, she still got excited when she saw a flower box coming in. So much so that she followed me until I took the flowers out and gave her the box.
Even though she's now gone from this plane, I know she'll always be with me, playing in the leaves, enjoying a flower box, having great adventures, or napping in a pool of sunlight. We're never far from one another. Just two little wildflowers, waiting for the wind.
