Book of informal blooms will make mom’s day
What would your mom honestly like to receive this Mother’s Day?
Well, first off, skip the kitchen gadgets and silk scarves. She has drawers full of both already. Chocolates are out too, because every woman worries about getting fat.
Then there’s that other standard offering — a potted flowering plant wrapped in shiny foil paper. Yet yikes, here’s the awful truth about those: You’ll be secretly cursed, because mom won’t want the hassle of looking after the darn plant.
So what’s left? Simple. A disposable bunch of squeaky fresh flowers, grown at a greenhouse right here in Ontario, which she can plunk in a vase for a week, then throw away and forget about. (Steer clear, though, of those imported, ugly assortments of carnations, roses and whatnot, dyed lurid colours like emerald green and blue and sprinkled with flecks of glitter. Ack. They won’t, I wager, be well-received.)
Yet even better, if you have plants about to bloom in your garden, take her a few of those.
My late mom, who lived in a condo, didn’t give a hoot for any doodad I bought her in a store (“Save your money, dear. I have no more space,” she told me constantly.) But she was invariably thrilled if I arrived carrying something I’d grown myself.
Usually, for Mother’s Day, this would mean a bunch of daffodils or tulips, still in bud. But one year my lily of the valley bloomed early. So I tied some of their dainty little stems together with lacy ribbon and she was ecstatic, exclaiming that their powerful scent reminded her of being young and in love. (My dad — a thrifty soul, not given to buying flowers often — had apparently courted her on one memorable occasion with a nosegay of lily of the valley.)
But what if fresh flowers make your mom sneeze, or her apartment gets too hot for them, or she has a cat who’ll knock the vase over? Well, here’s another idea: a sumptuous new coffee table book that she can look through with a cuppa while (hopefully) thinking what a generous son/daughter you are.
The Flower Book is the work of a Brit named Rachel Siegfried, and I like it for several reasons. First, the photographs, by Claire West, are exquisite, mostly featuring flowers that we grow here. But equally important, the text is blessedly brief, printed in decent-sized type and I actually learned a few things about using cut flowers while perusing the pages.
Siegfried worked for years as a horticulturist, tending various private gardens, then in 2008 decided to open her own “flower farm” called Green and Gorgeous in the Oxfordshire countryside. She’s refreshingly knowledgeable about plants, grows cut flowers for weddings and special events and her floral arrangements look artistic yet delightfully natural — unlike so many stiff and regimented displays put together by florists.
Indeed, in some photos of her creations, I noted bug holes in leaves, and that a few blooms had flopped over after being put in a vase. But who cares? That’s exactly what happens when I bring my own garden gleanings indoors — and I prefer this informal, uncontrolled way of displaying flowers. A selection of Siegfried’s tips: Narcissus (a.k.a. daffodils) exude a slimy sap that’s poisonous to other flowers. So give them a vase of their own.
Lilacs are also best arranged solo, because hormones released by other flowers will make them wilt quickly.
Fritillaries (now blooming in Canadian gardens) give off a noticeable skunky smell. Don’t put them in a closed room or you’ll gag.
Delphiniums placed near a bowl of fruit will droop.
Peonies drink a lot. Top up their vase with water daily.
The Flower Book is published by Dorling Kindersley. It costs $50 or less. soniaday.com
The text is blessedly brief, printed in decent sized type and I actually learned a few things about using cut flowers