Among the talent was a designer from France, another from Holland, and two from the Dominican Republic. They were incredible masters of floral design, who through the divine orchestration of life, found themselves working in the same shop in Anchorage, Alaska.
And, somehow, I was among them. Young, with a thirst for learning anything creative, I stepped into this infusion of talent and sat with a figurative pen & paper in hand, a student marking down. While I scrubbed buckets, cleaned flowers, prepped containers, and swept the floor, I closely watched. I watched the interplay of color and form, of shadow and depth, of texture and line, and how they did that so well. I learned mechanics and botany, and why and why not. I learned that inspiration and imagination are the guides to follow. I learned about beauty that moves.
This talent I shadowed, until I began to design, right along side them. They nurtured; I grew. Events filled my time in the next couple years, from small to large, from the single rose to the entire wedding.
Interestingly, in a way it was floral design that would eventually lead to interior design for me a bit later on, there where a whole different chapter of life would begin. But through all the years, in all the places and stages of life, I've carried with me that first love of floral design - the way branches, grasses, leaves, petals, seeds, and fruit - the bounty of earth - can become elements in exqusite displays of beauty and art.
So now you know why, over the course of several recent days, that I began to collect beauty when I passed it on the trail, beside the river, or on the hillside. I had to bring it home. Home to that giant glass vase there on the dining table. I found the familiar rhythm as I snipped and placed and made a fabulous mess. The fragrance was incredible. After a while, this happened.
And here's another, from earlier fall.
For more floral inspiration, follow the amazing Saipua.
Or how about Swallows & Damsons
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