Like drips of honey, all your birthday well-wishes were! Aw, friends, thank you for that!
And now, how about some marigolds in a tarnished silver julep cup?
I thought so.
At first snip, the smell of marigold whisked me away, back and away, to my mother's flower garden when I was about seven. The heavy, deep-golden and flame-orange orbs of autumn were snipped and carried by the handsful into the house to arrange for the wedding. That fall wedding. The one were I was chosen to be beautiful. To wear the elegant, to toss the marigold petals, to almost-be-the-bride.
Sculpted edges and ruffled folds, flowing fabric and button rows, lace-veiled sun, slices of sweet, and the fragrance of marigolds.
I was hooked on beauty from that very day.
Wishing you a lovely week's beginning, friends!
