Appreciation of Beautiful Things: The Work of a Florist

The sun would just be coming through the early morning clouds as I drove through the quiet, on my way to the Flower Mart in downtown Los Angeles. It was part of the ritual, the dance, of doing this work that I loved. I only did it part time and I only did it for seven years, but I loved it.

It began with our eldest daughter’s wedding. We were on a budget, I loved working with flowers and I saw an opportunity inviting me to leap. So I jumped in with both feet. I applied for a resale number from the state of California, hired a friend to design a logo and business cards, and “Ribbons ‘n’ Roses” was born.

I worked with a good friend to produce beautiful floral décor for about two weddings or parties every month. I loved the creativity, the people, and the beauty of each arrangement, but I suppose my favorite part of all of it was that early morning drive downtown to the Los Angeles Flower Mart, a place packed with rich delights and unholy confusion. Most of it is contained in one enormous, two-story warehouse with scores of individual flower vendors and one large supply center. Driving into the garage while it is nearly dark and then emerging into this brightly lit, bustling activity center is an exercise in cognitive dissonance.

Carts and trucks are loaded, advice is given, cash is handed over, packages are wrapped—all of it infused with the sweet scent of flowers. With the car loaded and my bills paid, I would usually end the morning with breakfast at the adjacent Chinese diner. I would listen to conversations between buyers and sellers as they ate their char siu pork, rice, and eggs, absorbing as much information as I could.

I had no training, you see. I learned as I went. I watched others do this work, marveling at the tricks and secrets they revealed. Experimenting in my garage, I learned the importance of hardening off: cutting freshly-bought flowers and putting them immediately into buckets of cool, nutrient-enriched water for several hours before arranging. I learned how to make small things, like boutonnieres, and large arrangements that stood four to five feet tall, securing them with floral tape and clay.

Even more importantly, my seven-year stint as a part-time florist revealed my affinity for ceremony and ritual, and my love of serving and supporting people during critical times in their lives. I also realized at a deeper level than ever before, that an appreciation for beautiful things is a defining characteristic of a fully lived human life.