Acres of Roses arriving on Valentine’s Day doorstep 2008 made me weak and knocked me off my feet
Twice I responded to the summoning of my doorbell.
Twice a grinning and harried floral delivery man handed me a huge bouquet of roses…not red, not pink, but peachy…my favorite color.
A dozen times 2 = 2 dozen roses for 2008 Valentine’s Day.
I’m sure sometime in my life I’ve been sent flowers by delivery. But, it’s been so long ago, I’d have to reach way, way back. I’ve had a pact with all the men I’ve been with as an adult woman to Be Sensible on Valentine’s Day. Get the roses from Costco, don’t you know? Send the balance of the money to charity, or some such thing.
But, wow. This sure is fun. Thank you, dear Heart Friend and Rose Man. There is something about flowers…and roses…that makes a girl feel pretty darn good. (I recall, still, a family vacation in Tyler, Texas…rose-growing capitol of the world…visiting friends of my folks…and the acres, and acres of roses in the fields.)
My husband sent his grandmother a massive bouquet of pink roses for her 90th birthday. She wrote back in the thank you note that she had never seen so many roses at once; in fact, she had never gotten ANY roses in her whole life. My husband treasures the thought that her only grandson was the fella that made her feel that special just once. We never grow too old for those kinds of treats. I’m glad you got to feel that way on St. Valentine’s Day!