"In Search of the Perfect Flower" by Vivian Shortreed

[Memos from Rev. Barbara Merritt and Rev. Tom Schade]

G U E S T   M E M O

“In Search of the Perfect Flower”



Among the gifts we bring to each other at First Unitarian are the flowers on
the altar as we worship. Most often they are a gift in memory of someone
held in close relation to the giver. The arrangements are varied, often
breathtaking. Whether given in honor of persons living or dead, or with a
prayer for peace, they are gifts which are given with great love.



We check the names of the givers in the Order of Service, thank them, and we
honor for a moment the person or persons for whom they are given. It would
be appropriate, also, to thank a great number of unseen persons who have
brought us these flowers: those who breed them, those who planted, those who
fed, watered and immunized them, those who harvested and packed them, those
who flew them to the market, and the florist who selected and arranged them.
There are so many people to thank for our perfectly beautiful floral
displays. We should also not forget the Source of the stardust that became
the soil in which they grew.



In her study of the flower business entitled Flower Confidential, Amy
Stewart gives details of the industry’s attempt to breed and grow the
perfect flower: the flower with a large, perfectly formed blossom, the
flower with pure and/or unique color, the flower that will hold up in
shipping and last some days until it reaches its destination, the flower
bred to last and still have a fragrance, perhaps a blue rose. Meanwhile, as
the industry searches, we have an abundance of locally grown and other less
than perfect flowers available to us at every turn. Exotic, out of season
flowers found in flower shops are so common, perhaps, that we take their
presence for granted, giving them less than perfect attention. And perhaps
this abundance of what is out of season in New England encourages us to pass
by the beautiful things that our native soil and climate offer us.



      In recent years, our altar has been graced with some awesome displays
that have featured the things that grow around us, available in season. Over
the past several years, one of my personal favorites has been Roz Bennett’s
two stunningly beautiful red dahlias, placed on the altar in memory of her
mother, whose love of flowers she inherited. I shall miss them when the
dahlias bloom next fall. The winter brings its challenges, but we’ve had
beautiful arrangements of dried hydrangea blossoms, evergreen branches,
grasses, winterberry, pine cones, stark winter stems, potted chrysanthemums
and other flowers. One Sunday, there were bright red tulips, locally grown,
with the winterberry and greens. And what could be lovelier than our
unadorned green trees and ropes of evergreen at the Christmas season!



The flowers that give us so much pleasure call us to pay attention. They
call us to pay attention to the hidden costs of bringing exotic flowers, or
flowers that are out of season here, from other climates. There are social
justice issues to be aware of: toxic sprays, labor conditions (in some
places for children who harvest and pack flowers), loss of family farms and
forest.



We should also consider that many of First Unitarian’s flowers suffer a
short life. After the service that features them on the altar, most of our
lovely flowers are simply left to wither and die in the dining room without
further notice.



Yet, just a few stems taken these arrangements would brighten many homes. If
the arrangement you share with us has no further destination, in a home or a
public space, why not invite parishioners at coffee hour each to take a few
stems home to enjoy in the days and weeks ahead? Should there be flowers
remaining, surely the diners at Monday Night at the Church can give them
homes.



Flowers have enormous power to give pleasure, to bring comfort, to stir
memories, to bring hope in distress. Consider only the leap of hope stirred
by the first snowdrops in spring. Roz’s dahlias always reminded me of the
many times my mother took my arm when I arrived home for a visit and led me
around her flower garden. Another of my fondest memories is of being met by
our daughter in the Minneapolis airport in January. The temperature outside
was 15 degrees below zero. She greeted us with a potted hyacinth in hand.



With our flowers, perhaps, the perfect quest is for keener attention and a
more perfect sharing.





             Vivian Shortreed
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