I love flowers. If you were to pass by while I’m walking the dogs, you’d see that I spend 2/3 of my time talking to them and the other 1/3 taking a minute to stop and smell the flowers. Hell, even my dog stops to smell them now. No wonder the neighbors don’t talk to me. 

This love for flowers was a gift from my grandmothers. One was a farmer, the other an urban gardener with a pristine yard. We would walk the neighborhood at night after the sun went down enough to cool the air. She would point to each blooming flower and tell me the name. Way better than any Google Lens experience. 

I forgot about the joy of flowers for many years until COVID. I needed something bright in my life, so I started to buy one bouquet a week from the clearance bin. Sunday morning after grocery shopping, I carefully set up a pruning station on the kitchen bar and cranked up the music. Then, I’d cut down the bouquet and arrange it, incorporating the living flower remnants from the week before with the new. It was like going to church in a way. A routine to remember life is beautiful. 

Last weekend, my girlfriend and I were looking for something to do that felt restful but did not involve turning on the TV. We both learned during van life that to rest, we have to turn inward - not tune out. We decided to buy a ton of flowers and make many flower arrangements for friends. Just like I did all those years ago, we set up a station - just this time outside on the patio so we could enjoy the sunshine. With the music turned up, we pruned all the stems and arranged 10 bouquets. 

Then, we made a map of 10 friends' houses and dropped off bouquets one by one. We didn’t knock on the door. Just a little delivery - a few stems of flowers and a note to tell them thank you for being one of the things that brings joy to our lives. 

I knew those friends would love the flowers, everyone does, but I didn’t know they needed them. I was surprised by all the reasons: a sick partner. A hard week. A death in the family. All these hard things I didn’t even know about. 

I have big heavy things on my mind I haven’t told them, too. I think we all do it for fear of feeling like a burden. It’s not so easy to admit that sometimes the heaviness lasts more than one day. That I’m carrying a little more than I think I can handle. That I don’t actually know what to do next. 

While there’s no one size fits all fix, there are little signs that interrupt the madness. The reminders that we are not alone are everywhere, even in the gardens that line the walking path and sometimes something beautiful arrives right at your door.