"I must have flowers, always and always."
In the back corner of my Oma's house was her sewing room. It had the most distinct smell of any other room in the house, because hidden in the cupboard, in drawers and on the windowsill were bags of potpourri. When I inherited her sewing box, it came with memories of the heavenly intoxication one received when stepping through the door into that room, the strongest scent of dried lavender and rose petals that you can imagine. When I open the box I am always careful to close the lid shortly after, hoping to savour its fragrance for a little while longer.
Knowing that flowers conserve their perfume beyond the time of their fullest bloom, prompts me to keep them about our house for much longer than I should (some of the flowers in our house are over a year old!). Each of these flowers were gifted or thrifted from friends, reminding me of the joyful memories upon receipt. And so, these flowers remain in a vase on our dining table, at least in the meantime.
flowers from a friend for a joyous design job // lavender spoils, cut from a friend's garden // flowers from a table of a best friend's wedding.