I didn’t use to appreciate things. Like flowers for instance. I didn’t give two lips about tulips. I didn’t know they were perennial because I didn’t know what perennial meant. They came up and went away. I didn’t know they weren’t going to come back for a whole nother year. Turns out a year is a long time.
You know what else I didn’t know dick about? Daffodils.
Peonies? Paleese. I didn’t know those could make someone sneeze because I didn’t know those were a thing.
Dalias? I don’t think so.
Marigolds? Oh god no.
Errbody says a rose is a rose is a rose. But way back when, I was more worried about waking up than the flowers popping up. I didn’t know a rose from the tip of my nose.
I thought a carnation was breakfast drinks. Turns out someone pinned one to the lapel of a tuxedo I awkwardly wore to a formal high school dance. Nobody likes carnations.
Now, though, I’m all about flowers. There isn’t a walk I take where I don’t stop to smell the stamens. I’ll camp out for carpels. And admire petals and sepals of every brightly colored plant I encounter. Everytime I see a pretty flower, I’m like bloomya!
Cherry blossoms? Yessum.
Hydrangeas? Ah jeah.
Chrysanthemum? I’m all about em.
Irises get yeses from me just like the orchids did.
I don’t know why all a sudden I’m such a flower person. But what I do know is that gerbera daisies are all that I buy. Because that’s what my wife likes.