It's my wedding anniversary today. I remember the early conversations with providers of flowers, and the months of looking at flowers at other people's weddings (everyone seemed to be getting married that year) which were always very nice yes, quite fussy and decorated (so many pins and ribbons) and my steady realisation that, a bit like going to a hairdresser, including someone else in the equation would involve painful compromise and a retreat to something more conservative, more generally pleasing.
So I went round the ring road and the local supermarkets and the local garden centre. I picked up three special items from the fancy florist in the middle of town (two matching orchids, a proto-bouquet, the fancy roses). I dug out the pots and vases on sale at IKEA and Robery Dyas that I'd been hoarding and assembled it all on the floor of my kitchen while everyone else panicked about random shit at the venue.
My flowers were awesome. And I also still have some in the garden, flowering, right now. That's my Kniphofia Timothy, from the planters in front of the high table at the reception, after a hard summer when it got congested and nearly died. It's doing fine, and in flower right now. The Lime border Datura is an annual, of course, but seeds so magnificently it's a regular returner.
Some things were disposable of course, though a few of the (cough choke) faux botanicals may still be knocking around. The dinosaur and seeds are a wedding favour. I dropped plenty of those (easy seeders all) into my own garden, and the fennel and nigella are still going strong.
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