This summer has been filled with many feminine soft pink and white weddings...something that I've slowly grown to accept; and dare I say it, enjoy. I have always thought of myself as somebody who must be surrounded by a riot of color. Teal walls covered in rainbows of artwork and shelves of candy colored toys and trinkets fill our house. I feel comfortable in colorful chaos. Something about it soothes me. But you know what else I'm fond of? Ruffles. No, really...I love dreamy folds of fabric that spill in puddles, I collect photos of ruffled skirts, and the appearance of the never-ending ruffled center of a garden rose turns me into a totally swooning dork...in my opinion ruffles are best done in soft colors. Folds of dreamy white and the palest of pinks. There is just something about it harkens back to victorian ladies and princesses, and the obvious ballet dancer. Delicate woman of the utmost class. When Mariah's mother approached me about helping with her daughters flowers, I was happy to hear that Mariah was an equestrian who wanted vintage inspired ruffles...and white, with a hint of blush; and that Scott was a landscaper who knew his flowers! (Always a plus when the groom has a little input!) So on a summer day, surrounded by Home Hill Inn's gorgeous horses (and MINI DONKEYS) Mariah married Scott, surrounded by ruffles of the softest pink and white.
Breathtakingly perfect Snowberry.
A happy Rebecca with the silliest puff she ever did make.
My new friends...who I'm convinced were sad to see me go.
Wild cucumber vine harvested from the tops of my backyard fence made for the softest tendrils and the tiny pop of spike...you know to offset all the ruffles.
In true florist fashion I returned home that night and started on next weekends wedding while watching crappy TV and eating crackers. Just a little trivia for you...florists tend to like the worst TV shows and generally sustain themselves on liquid and crackers, with a few choice meals tossed in for good measure.