Flowers in the Home

1883

Flowers! How our thoughts brighten at that word! They fly back over, ten, twenty, thirty, aye, forty years, to the times when we wove garlands from the wild sweet blossoms. What dainty, golden necklet we have since worn has given us the pleasure we felt when we decked ourselves in a simple daisy chain?

But I did not take up my pen to write of our sweet childhood; I wish to speak to my sisters of the home; I wish to remind them that nothing will make a home truly refined but flowers. Ah, they are infinitely more than rich furniture, and even more than books or pictures, or music itself, for they speak to all. None are too old, too young, too ignorant nor too refined to be taught by those sweet, fragile teachers. Then, busy, planning housewives, find a place for something that will tell you "God is love" — a little flowering plant.

It need not be a rare exotic in a costly vase. Primroses, violets, hyacinths, or any sweet, simple flower in an ordinary pot is quite enough. But you can make your pot quite a work of art with a little patience, ingenuity and corks. Take a flower-pot, a small wooden box, or anything convenient, and glue on fragments of corn until the outside is covered with a rustic coat. Then fill with mold and plant your flower.

Another way is — paint your pot or box a dark brown; then, when, it is dry, gum on some of those pretty, cheap scraps in wreaths or groups, and finish with a coat of clear varnish. Yet another way is to adapt common sea shells and pebbles. Ah, they are little things, but they will brighten a room, and perhaps a sad, dark, weary soul. What memories they awaken!

But a week ago a pot of spring flowers was placed in my hand, and with their sweet breath floated the memories of ten years ago, when I gathered the wild flowers and wove them into garlands; when I was not alone, but had the companionship of one who now sleeps in God's Acre beneath the flowers, when my faith in God and man was unshaken; and for that glimpse of my fair, pure childhood I was stronger and better. Then find a place for flowers. For all your care and trouble their sweetness and beauty will reward you fourfold. — The Toronto Globe.