“Here are fruits, flowers, leaves, and branches.
And here is my heart which beats only for you.”
This story happened more than a week ago. Ten days to be exact.
I was busy reading Neil Gaiman’s A Calendar of Tales and editing photos for submission when the doorbell rang…
Outside, I found a tall, brown package addressed to me. It was from Daniel. The boyfriend.
While most men decided to play it safe and go for the usual red roses for Valentine’s Day, my geek of a boyfriend took his chances and sent me bark potted orchids instead.
A.K.A. Phalaenopsis orchids. A.K.A. Moth orchids.
Nearly four months ago, when Daniel and I were at Costco, I saw a bunch of potted orchids. I told him I love orchids, and that someday I want to have orchids in the house. He laughed and called me crazy, so I jokingly gave him the ‘mean’ eyes.
Such a sweet gesture on Valentine’s Day only goes to show that he does pay attention to details even though most of the time he’d give me a blank look on his face or leave me hanging in the air over the phone. Ha! Sneaky bastard!
Of course this Valentine’s package wouldn’t be complete without a message. The orchid came with a card, and it said:
“A different present for a different kind of girl. I am very lucky to have you, and I cannot wait to see you. I love you Fats!! – With mega-tons-errific love, Dan.”
P.S. I named my orchid ‘Darcy.’
I love flowers but I was never a big fan of flower photography.
Darcy came along and changed all that.
At least for six days.
“I hated roses. I hated them for being so trite, so cliché, a default, all-purpose flower that said I love you, I’m sorry, and get well soon. Give me peonies and tulips, orchids or gardenia. Those were flowers with character.”
— Justina Chen Headley
“It’s so curious: one can resist tears and ‘behave’ very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer… and everything collapses.”
“She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her… I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her…”
— Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince
“People from a planet without flowers would think we must be mad with joy the whole time to have such things about us.”
— Iris Murdoch
When we stopped to rest and Tony tried to figure out what was wrong with his compass, I asked him what he thought it was about orchids that seduced humans so completely that they were compelled to steal them and worship them and try to breed new and specific kinds of them and then be willing to wait for nearly a decade for one of them to flower. ‘Oh, mystery, beauty, unknowability, I suppose, ‘ he said, shrugging. ‘Besides, I think the real reason is that life has no meaning. I mean, no obvious meaning. You wake up, you go to work, you do stuff. I think everybody’s always looking for something a little unusual that can preoccupy them and help pass the time.’
— Susan Orlean, The Orchid Thief
“Many collectors died in process of searching for new species, and despite persistent reports that the men died from drowning, gunshot and knife wounds, snakebite, trampling by cattle, or blows in the head with blunt instruments, it is generally accepted that in each case the primary cause of death was orchid fever.”
— Eric Hansen, Orchid Fever: A Horticultural Tale of Love, Lust, and Lunacy
TAKEN THIS MORNING
Four already in full bloom. Waiting for the other four to unveil their beauty.