In the Victorian era, flowers were a language. They were a means of communication, allowing individuals to express feelings that otherwise could not be spoken. When a suitor sent a woman primroses, for instance, it meant he confessed his eternal love. If she replied with striped carnations, the lady was refusing him. A single rose in full bloom? She loved him too.
I like to think of July as my month, as this month of year I celebrate my birthday, always a joyous time and thinking of gifts (can’t help it, the enthusiasm begins mounting up way in advance) reminds me of this simple, one of the most beautiful gestures: offering a bouquet of flowers.
Is it a lost art? Since when I was little until well into my teenage years, before leaving for university, every weekend my father used to bring me flowers from the flower market. He still buys me flowers when I go home. My face would light up just as it does every time someone surprises me with this sincere and wonderful token for expressing gratitude, best wishes or simply to say hi. We may not pay much attention to this secret language as in Victorian times, but a nice gesture coming from the heart is never forgotten. I hope you have a wonderful weekend!