The Garden

Hey so since no one reads this anymore I thought I might have a little fun and share something I've been working on in class. 

 I really like it and even if no one gets it or likes it, I don't care... This is my outlet where I have been deciding what to share for the past little bit...

Anyway, here it is:

What if each family is simply a garden?

With explicit rows defining who is who and what is what. With each seedling planted firmly in its place only to grow and expand into the vase unknown.

What if each seed was a soul?

with the unique patterns and behaviorism hiding underneath a smooth and slick outside. With only time to be the key to discovering such complexity that is yet unknown

Personally, I reside with the garden roses. Small and sweet they open up, letting you see to the very core of them. without any fear, they cause you to be drawn it by their innocence and positive aura. but with one simple touch you may be pricked, so a warning must be issued to all: you may regard, but with great distance. so there the rose sits in their refined ways alone, and undisturbed.

My mother on the other hand is a strong study stalk of bee balm with her vibrant coloring and her natural bass. letting one and all know that she is one with the rest of the earth, but allowing herself to be diverse in the head, her petals allowing subtle differences seep into her brightly colored persona.

My father resembles that of a night  blooming cereus. He is humbled and natural sitting amongst the other plants, not drawing attention to himself, but if caught at the right time he could be something vastly brilliant. He opens up letting people see into him and recognize the inner complexity that is not seen when the sun is high in the sky. Although rare, it is beyond anticipated to see what makes him truly unique.

Although it is not finished, I like the direction of whatever I have been getting at.

With that I am finished with this brief little bit.  

Goodnight,

Olivia

xoxo

Valentines day

Valentines day: the day of love... or something like that.

Year after year, I spend my day at my mother's flower shop. My job title is synonymous to what ever needs to be done that day. It could be running buckets brimming with flowers up and down the stairs, to helping people with their orders, and everything in between.

As easy a job(s) as they/ it sounds it can be very demanding. from 9 in the morning to 6 or so at night you're hauling 15ish pound buckets filled with water everywhere. Considering it was in the single digits throughout the weekend, it would make it very uncomfortable to have water spilled on you and have to continue to run back and forth in the freezing weather.

Another fun aspect of the business is that I am the third generation to be involved in the store. My grandmother started B/A Florist in 1979 in Okemos, and in '85 moved the flower shop into the old house on the corner of Hagadorn and Grand River. The B/A stands for my grandmothers name: Barbra Ann (aka the founder.)

Sorry for the short post, but I hope you had a great weekend,
Olivia
oxox