Commercial as it is, Valentine’s Day reminds the two of us how many years we’ve loved one another. Despite hype designed to convince my sweetheart to fulfill romantic obligations with cut flowers, chocolates, scented candles, and bubble bath products, he ignored those messages a few years ago and gave me a gift that went crazy wild.
After decades of marriage, I’ve learned flower shops hold no power over my guy. He prefers multi-department businesses where he slowly cruises the sporting good section for most of a store visit. Once he’s checked out every fishing lure and all the hunting supplies, he camps out in the Valentine card section. Over time, he’s learned I’m a sucker for messages he actually reads. No generic I love you from this guy. He looks for a card that perfectly expresses his feelings--sometimes funny and sometimes sweet—just like him. Year after year, the man knocks it out of the park.
Typically, after wrapping up this shopping challenge, he zips past the cut flower case, snagging a bouquet on the go to carry home to his bride, and heads to check-out. If you haven’t figured it out, I most look forward to the envelope encased love note he’ll cleverly hide.
Due to bad weather a few years ago, he didn’t shop til Valentine’s Day. I desperately needed to visit the art supply aisle so he let me tag along, reminding me to keep my nose out of his business. Yeah, like the calendar date and days seeing hearty advertisements hadn’t clued me in.
Because of our late visit to the store, the bedraggled flower case looked bad sad, and so did my favorite guy when he couldn’t find a suitable arrangement. Keeping my nose out of his business, I’d lifted my winter mood earlier, buzzing through the garden area where I’d noticed a store display of 6-inch, gift wrapped pots filled with blooming kalanchoes. When he apologized for his lack of success in the bloom department, I said, “Hey, the garden section has great plants that will bloom longer than any cut flower you could buy.”
In no time, we headed home with a fishing lure or two and a blossoming, warmth-loving succulent covered in a plastic bag to protect it from Kansas elements. It reigned in our living room until garden season arrived, and we could move it outdoors.
After a month or so absorbing unadulterated sunshine, that baby needed a bigger pot to sustain its flourishing greenery and delicate orange/red blossoms. I transplanted it to a much larger container, thinking it would take a while to grow into it. Ha, it overtook its new home in a flash, and has sunbathed this winter in front of our living room window. New shoots and emerging blossoms indicate it intends to serve another year as the best Valentine flower ever.
As we slip up on another Valentine’s Day, guess what? This holiday, I don’t want flowers. I want a huge planter to accompany the card I look forward to every year.