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June 28-July 4, 2016 is American Flowers Week


SLOWFLOWERS.COM ANNOUNCES 2016 AMERICAN FLOWERS WEEK

A campaign to promote American flowers and foliage

Slowflowers.com, the comprehensive online resource that connects consumers with local, seasonal and sustainable flowers, announced details about the second annual “American Flowers Week.”

In 2015, Slowflowers.com creator Debra Prinzing organized the week-long celebration of domestic flowers to raise consumer awareness and unite America’s flower farmers with the U.S. floral industry. In one month that effort generated more than 400,000 social media impressions on Twitter and Instagram, demonstrating the power of images, ideas and values that promote American Grown Flowers.

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The goal of American Flowers Week is to engage the public, policymakers and the media in a conversation about the origins of their flowers. As an advocacy effort, the campaign is timed to coincide with America’s Independence Day on July 4th, providing florists, retailers, wholesalers and flower farmers a patriotic opportunity to promote American grown flowers.

American Flowers Week supporters can find more information and resources atamericanflowersweek.com. Downloadable fact sheets, infographics and the 2016 American Flowers Week logo and social media badges are available for growers and florists to use for their own marketing and promotion efforts.

To read the entire press release visit: American Flowers Week website.

To purchase an American Flowers week arrangement visit EdenFlorist.com today.

The Daffodil Principle by Jaroldeen Asplund Edwards


"Tulips Talk The daffodil principle"The Daffodil Principle byJaroldeen Asplund Edwards

Several times my daughter had telephoned to say, “Mother, you must come to see the daffodils before they are over.” I wanted to go, but it was a two-hour drive from Laguna to Lake Arrowhead “I will come next Tuesday”, I promised a little reluctantly on her third call.

Next Tuesday dawned cold and rainy. Still, I had promised, and reluctantly I drove there. When I finally walked into Carolyn’s house I was welcomed by the joyful sounds of happy children. I delightedly hugged and greeted my grandchildren.

“Forget the daffodils, Carolyn! The road is invisible in these clouds and fog, and there is nothing in the world except you and these children that I want to see badly enough to drive another inch!”

My daughter smiled calmly and said, “We drive in this all the time, Mother.”
“Well, you won’t get me back on the road until it clears, and then I’m heading for home!” I assured her.
“But first we’re going to see the daffodils. It’s just a few blocks,” Carolyn said. “I’ll drive. I’m used to this.”

“Carolyn,” I said sternly, “Please turn around.” “It’s all right, Mother, I promise. You will never forgive yourself if you miss this experience.”

After about twenty minutes, we turned onto a small gravel road and I saw a small church.
On the far side of the church, I saw a hand lettered sign with an arrow that read, ” Daffodil Garden .”
We got out of the car, each took a child’s hand, and I followed Carolyn down the path Then, as we turned a corner, I looked up and gasped. Before me lay the most glorious sight.

It looked as though someone had taken a great vat of gold and poured it over the mountain peak and its surrounding slopes.
The flowers were planted in majestic, swirling patterns, great ribbons and swaths of deep orange, creamy white, lemon yellow, salmon pink, and saffron and butter yellow.
Each different-colored variety was planted in large groups so that it swirled and flowed like its own river with its own unique hue. There were five acres of flowers.

“Who did this?” I asked Carolyn. “Just one woman,” Carolyn answered. “She lives on the property. That’s her home.”
Carolyn pointed to a well-kept A-frame house, small and modestly sitting in the midst of all that glory. We walked up to the house.

On the patio, we saw a poster. “Answers to the Questions I Know You Are Asking”, was the headline.
The first answer was a simple one. “50,000 bulbs,” it read. The second answer was, “One at a time, by one woman. Two hands, two feet, and one brain.” The third answer was, “Began in 1958.”

For me, that moment was a life-changing experience.
I thought of this woman whom I had never met, who, more than forty years before, had begun, one bulb at a time, to bring her vision of beauty and joy to an obscure mountaintop.
Planting one bulb at a time, year after year, this unknown woman had forever changed the world in which she lived. One day at a time, she had created something of extraordinary magnificence, beauty, and inspiration. The principle her daffodil garden taught is one of the greatest principles of celebration.
That is, learning to move toward our goals and desires one step at a time–often just one baby-step at time–and learning to love the doing, learning to use the accumulation of time.
When we multiply tiny pieces of time with small increments of daily effort, we too will find we can accomplish magnificent things. We can change the world .

“It makes me sad in a way,” I admitted to Carolyn. “What might I have accomplished if I had thought of a wonderful goal thirty-five or forty years ago and had worked away at it ‘one bulb at a time’ through all those years? Just think what I might have been able to achieve!”

My daughter summed up the message of the day in her usual direct way. “Start tomorrow,” she said.

She was right. It’s so pointless to think of the lost hours of yesterdays. The way to make learning a lesson of celebration instead of a cause for regret is to only ask, “How can I put this to use today?”

Use the Daffodil Principle:
Stop waiting…..
Until your car or home is paid off
Until you get a new car or home
Until your kids leave the house
Until you go back to school
Until you finish school
Until you clean the house
Until you organize the garage
Until you clean off your desk
Until you lose 10 lbs.
Until you gain 10 lbs.
Until you get married
Until you get a divorce
Until you have kids
Until the kids go to school
Until you retire
Until summer
Until spring
Until winter
Until fall
Until you die…

There is no better time than right now to Work Hard and be happy

 

 

 

June is ROSE Month!


and here’s a perfect story to illustrate the date:

On Being a Perfect Rosebud by Mira C. Coone 

"June is Rose Month" Consider a rosebud.  It is one of the most wondrous of God’s creations.  Its color can be rich and vibrant or a delicate pastel. It is subtly fragrant and a gentle touch reveals the softness and smoothness of its petals.  It holds such promise and has the potential to bloom and burst forth in glorious beauty.  We nurture it gently; feed and water it, protect it from extremes of wind and temperature and wait and watch, anticipating its unfolding and the fulfillment of its mission: to bring joy and awe to the beholder of its beauty.

How we are like rosebuds!  We are not finished yet.  We have not fully bloomed.  We have not yet attained the glory and immortality that awaits us.  We have shortcomings. 

Do we fault or criticize the rosebud for not being a fully blossomed rose?  Do we discard it and abandon it and fail to care for or nurture it because it isn’t complete?  Do we deliberately pollute its water or subject it to conditions that will damage it?  Do we withhold sunlight and water from it?  Of course not!

Let me nurture my own emerging self with divine light and living water.  Let me see myself through the eyes of the Gardener.  Let me marvel at my own unfolding beauty.  Let me appreciate the good qualities I have developed thus far and nurture the gifts and talents I have been given.   Let me abstain from polluting myself with things or thoughts that would harm me.

May I wait patiently for the gentle unfolding of my full potential and appreciate the journey and the process.  I may not yet be a perfect rose, but I am a perfect rosebud, and God loves me exactly as I am.

©Mira K. Coone, 2003.  Used with permission.

 

 

Creating Moods through Flowers Video


Welcome to Flowers and Colors – The Secrets to Creating Moods through One of Natures Greatest Gifts – Flowers.  My name is Heidi Richards Mooney, Owner of Eden Florist and I am delighted to share a journey through floral history, myth and symbolism with you.

Story of the Mayflower


Trailing ARBUTUS or Ground Laurel
Family: Epigaea
Meaning: On Earth

The name arbutus is given to several evergreen plants, all belonging to the heath family and ranging in size from the tiniest plant to a tall tree, the most common of which is the trailing arbutus. These fragrant clusters of waxy white blossoms (often tinged with a touch of pink), are considered one of North America’s most attractive wild flowers. These dainty flowers have strong heart-shaped leaves and “hairy” brown stems. The arbutus grows best in sandy or rocky soils, especially in pine woods, where it creeps along the ground, almost hidden beneath dry needles and leaves.  It is also the provincial flower of Nova Scotia. The name Trailing Arbutus reflects its similarity to the trees in the related genus Arbutus, while being much smaller and prostrate on the ground. the trailing arbutus is listed as an endangered species in some U.S. states.

In Indian folklore there is a beautiful story about about the lovely spring flower, the trailing arbutus.

The story goes like this: Each year when the winter spirit, Peboan, fell asleep, his discarded furs turned to icy leaves. Coming upon the icy leaves, one beautiful spring day, Segun, (known as the summer spirit) put the leaves  in her hair and they immediately  came to life. She was so enthralled, she planted them in the earth and breathed upon them. At the touch of her warm breath, pink flowers appeared, giving off the scent of spicy perfume. “When the children find these,” she said, “they will know that Segun has been here, and that Peboan has gone away.”

The trailing arbutus, is also known as the mayflower, because it was the first flower to greet the Pilgrims after their fearful winter. The trialing arbutus or Mayflwoer grows abundantly in the vicinity of Plymouth,   John Greenleaf Whittier, poet and Quaker wrote a poem called The Mayflowers which you can read here:    http://www.geocities.com/ljacoby_2000/mayflowerpoem.html

Spring

Spring makes the world a happy place
You see a smile on every face.
Flowers come out and birds arrive,
Oh, isn’t it grand to be alive?

A story told in flowers


Here’s a love story that first appeared in the 1928 edition of Modern Priscilla Magazine. Each colored word corresponds to a flower . Enjoy the story !

Yellow was especially becoming to little Black-eyed Susan and so when Sweet William, that dashing Rambler invited her to a party at Four o’clock she gratefully accepted this proof of the Lad’s love and put on her yellow dress and yellow Lady’s slippers in honor of the occasion. First, she carefully arranged her Ladies tresses and then tiptoed softely out of the house so as not to Wake robin, her little brother. The mirror in the hall showed her that she was a Spring beauty, and that if her name has only been Marguerite she would have been a real English daisy.
Her escort’s London pride leaped high as he saw her, though, not to be outdone, he had with careful Thrift polished his own Bachelor’s buttons until they shone like a Goldenrod.
“Not one of the Fair maids of France can equal your appearance!” he exclaimed proudly. “England forever!” A tinge of Maiden pink showed on her face as he spoke with such Honesty, for behind it she read aright his Bleeding heart. But she only answered him demurely, “I hope I shall not be a Wallflower.” “Far from it,” he answered warmly. “I would scale Jacob’s ladder itself for a dance from you.” By that time they were at the party. “Johnny jump up exclaimed her escort to a boy at the door, ” and give her your seat!”

“Never,” answered the young Cockscomb disagreeably, and when pressed, he gave her lover such a blow that he saw his Love-in-a-mist. But when he saw the Bishop’s hat approaching he ran away. “Oh, Billy, are you hurt?” she sobbed wildly. He opened his Eyebright with love and answered feebly, “Will you be mine?” “Ask Poppy,” she answered shyly; while a Blush rose to her cheek. His Tulips answered in the old, old way and all we can do is wish them Speedwell.