I enjoy Trader Joe's flowers so much I'd work there (in the floral department, part-time, if the store was down the block.)
Their bouquets are fresh and varied and reasonably priced. Plus their offerings are unique and creative.
In the fall our store sold small in yellow, orange and purple kolanchoes in tiny color-coordinated metal buckets. They were darling. I put one next to my kitchen sink because it took very little room, and it's still alive (but done with the blooming cycle.) Their larger succulents were reviewed in Southern Living as perfect hostess gifts.
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| second blooming |
In December they sold amaryllis bulbs covered in red wax. They looked a flower version of edam cheese. No pot or watering required. I was curious to see if the bulbs would really flower. Wow, they did, four blossoms each for two cycles.
You can see out my window to the snowy golf course, wind whipping, temperatures dipping into single digits. The flowers cheer my soul.
I dropped by last night to see the latest, and picked up some Pussy Willow for a hint of spring. (They won't be budding here for three months.) And I love freesias anytime I can get them.
They also had tulips and hyacinth rooted in water to take home and bloom--couldn't pass those up either. I chose a hyacinth.
The bulbs are from one of the largest bulb growers in the US, and labeled a Women Owned business. (The website has a searchable list of women owned businesses organized by type, fun to check out.) There's an organization that certifies businesses at least 51% owned and managed by women! This one is a third generation family business.
Two more reasons to love Trader Joe's flowers.
Wow, the bouquet and hyacinth won't even be finished blooming by February 14th, but you can bet I'll drop by to see their Valentine for me!
When synapses fail, our brains are like pieces from different puzzles mixed together. The individual bits are difficult to connect.
The stress of our last move numbed our brains before the first box was loaded into the truck.
I got to the new condo and took one set of keys, and gave my husband the other. A couple of car loads later we couldn't find either set in pants or jacket pockets. Every flat surface was a jumble with no keys in sight. Going back over our steps didn't help-there were too many. Hours later we found one keychain on the porch in a box with a few hangers. The other one "appeared" in my purse, when I finally thought to search there.
The next day Bill readied for a trip to the bank to deposit the checks from the closing. I'd put them some place "safe" that I could get to easily. But surrounded by furniture in unfamiliar places and empty drawers I couldn't remember where the safe place was. Stomach drop. Heart palpitations. Hand wringing. Arrow prayer, "Where?" Then I thought, look in the check book. Bingo. Checks belong in a check book.
Bull says our guardian angels are working overtime this decade. Next decade, they'll need to double the staff.
We find life in general takes concentrated effort of both of us. Formerly my house-painter husband could change blades in his utility knife while juggling paint brushes and rollers. But on a recent morning, he struggled unsuccessfully to get all of the parts to fit back together. After fifteen frustrating minutes I turned to YouTube. Our problem-solving may have turned to mush, but we could imitate the man in the video.
A little later, we had to change the vacuum bag and filter. What came out wouldn't fit back in. Back to YouTube.
The photo for our Christmas card is another example. I'd wanted an updated photo since the last one taken four years ago. Our oldest grandson brought his camera and tripod to the mountain house we enjoyed for Thanksgiving. He put newly-learned skills to work to choose the by-the-creek setting with the right light and ambiance.
We didn't think ahead to have color-coordinated clothes, although my middle grandchild purchased a new shirt for the event. The neutral blues and grey worked fine. Still, the great photo made Bill and I groan. If we'd had a plan, or looked in a mirror, he wouldn't have looked like a blow-up lawn decoration, and I wouldn't have resembled a two-toned orange popsicle.
While some synapses create strong connections over longer periods of time, others can weaken. Apparently some of our old synapses of mechanical and spatial events are not the stronger kind.
I hope scientists somewhere are working on this problem. In the meantime, there are always clap-for-your-key devices and YouTube.
