Tiniest flowers of all...

I looked outside my window this morning (OK, it was more like noon) to find a few inches of snow covering the ground.

All of a sudden, I had visions of trying to push Finn in his stroller over six feet tall snowbanks. Having to put one of those horrible clear plastic covers over his ride to protect him from the Montreal winter winds, the kind that freeze your eyelashes together if you blink for two long... Or just the simple prospect of not leaving the house at all for 4 months.

These pictures eased my panic. Just for a few minutes, though.

The bower...

And we humans think we're so special...

Watch this now!

The Australian bowerbird decorates his house (this is definitely something other than a nest) with flower blooms, beetle wings, acorns...

And David Attenborough has to have the sexiest voice I've ever heard...

Thanks to Resurrection Fern for always posting the most interesting little things...

Slim pickings...

I pride myself on being inventive and resourceful when it comes to harvesting local greens and branches... But recently, even I can't find a thing. The alleys are a sad sight, my friends. I found these nice crab apple berries about a week ago... When I went to get some more yesterday, they were all brown and mushy. The wood was pink on the inside... I have to find a way to let clients appreciate tiny details like that... Can't wait for January so I can start forcing buds.

Hosta lace

There is such overlooked beauty in nature. I think this is gonna be one of those hippy-dippy posts, but so what?

Being a florist is rewarding in so many ways, but as in absolutely everything, there is a few frustrations that come along with all the fun (it's just strange how people assume that ours is a magical job with no drawbacks, no?). One of my biggest annoyances is that clients expect flowers and foliage to be impeccable. Like out of a machine, mold, factory impeccable. They want every single centerpiece to be the same, and all the blooms to be at that oh-so-perfect not-too-closed-yet-not-too-opened stage. They come for a demo in January and expect the bouquet they hold at their July wedding to be exactly identical. And it goes on... No matter that this is only possible if you treat the plant with more crap than you can find on Fox News.

So I took these pictures for my ideal client, wherever you may be... You are a client that would appreciate bug-eaten hosta leaves. Because they would remind you that your flowers were shared with innumerable insects and other organisms before they landed on your table, between the olives and the champagne. You are a client that understands that this is the hallmark of leaves that are entirely free of gross chemicals and pesticides, waxes and dyes. You are a client that sees not holes but a finely spun lace. Because that's what I see. And because like me you like to make bugs happy.

There, you can't say I didn't warn you... Hippy-dippy.

3 patches of light green moss...

The only thing more inspiring than lichens? Moss...

I'm usually all for collecting specimens, in fact I can't really help myself, but sometimes they're just so perfect the way they are that I just have to let them be.

One day...

So, to continue in the same vein, here is a book I picked up at the library this summer...

One day I will have a copy of my own!

Until then, I'll continue paying fines for bringing it back late... Yesterday's post would've been even more interesting if it had included scientific names, don't you think?

You can get it for yourself here, or for me, as my birthday is only a few days away...

Lichen, part 1

NORTHERN ONTARIO

Anyone who knows me knows: I love lichens. Unapologetically. I ambush strangers at parties to tell them about it, because my friends and neighbours know better than to stick around when the subject arises... Peoples' eyes gently glaze over as they politely try to pay attention...

Here are a few specimens from Northern Ontario. Some of them grow so slowly it can take decades to form a patch the size of a quarter! Can you imagine, then, how old some of these are...

Yellow, more yellow...

When you grow up in Canada, you start hearing pretty young about how boring the prairies are... Well, I hope this picture will help dispel this myth. As soon as we came out of Ontario into Manitoba, everything turned yellow. I mean, 360 degrees of pure yellow, as far as the eye could see. The environmentalist in me was appalled at this manifestation of monoculture, but the aesthete in me was thinking: canola, more canola! I suppose we were quite lucky to be there while it was flowering... So I can't pronounce myself on how the prairies look during other times of the year. If you have to go there, make sure you plan you trip mid-August... As for where to find the canola, believe me, you'll realize what a dumb question that is when you get there...