This morning, while the hygienist was making sure my teeth would pass inspection by the dentist, I got a text from one of my church members
Now, these roses are from the yard of a family whose business was growing roses and other flowers (well, it still is, just not this generation). They’d been tended with love all winter and our early Florida spring.
Of course, the answer was yes! Not that I have any real skills at arranging flowers, but I can fill a vase ok.
She stopped by to let me know they were in the kitchen when I was ready to have at them… What she didn’t say was they they’d dropped off a whole bucket!!
I brought them back to my study, where I realized the closest thing I have to a vase was the pitcher I use to pour juice for communion and water for foot-washing and baptisms. Turns out it’ll hold a fair number of roses, too.
It smelled amazing in my study this afternoon. And after handling the stems and leaves and loose petals, my hands retained a bit of that lovely fragrance. Like the rose water I had poured from the pitcher on Maundy Thursday.
Buckets, bouquets, whatevs. Today, love looks and smells like pink roses.