Three roses of a color I can only describe as almost-purple-but-still-pink have bloomed in their vase and are adorning my table. This was a lovely gift from a friend at work to many of the ladies in our department (he owns a flower shop as well as working in our office).
This equals about one third of the total number of flower-receiving events in my courtship by and subsequent marriage to the late great Uncle Dan (start to end approximately nine years).
He sent me flowers once while we were courting, on Sweetest Day. But he only did it because a woman he worked with told him I would be mad if he didn't. (She was wrong, but I loved receiving the flowers anyway.) Then in our first year of marriage he brought me a beautiful bouquet of roses from his Aunt's garden. She urged him to do so while he was over there cutting her grass. And once or twice he brought me a couple of blooms from our own garden, with nobody to suggest it or prod him into it.
Which dried flowers do you suppose I still have, kept in a glass potpourri jar along with a champagne cork from a special night and his wedding ring?
Gestures are nice, but it is the thought (the friendship, the love) behind them that stays in your heart.
Happy Valentine's Day!
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