Picking Daisies

Last Thursday in the midst of tackling essay mountain, I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I looked to see my mother in law had shared a photo of a green house nearby and a sea of their blooming Gerbera daisies.

I smiled.

I am a gardener at heart, a brown thumb by fate and flowers speak to me.

Growing up I thought celosia flowers were troll heads. I remember picking them out with my mother almost every summer. I would imagine the trolls dancing in our flower bed. When I think of celosia flowers, I think of my childhood and being living wild outside.

Peonies remind me of love. My grandma in preparation for her wedding planted peonies. As days turned into weeks, the wedding rolled around and not a single plant had bloomed. They ended up paying for peonies for their wedding and when they returned home from their honeymoon, every plant was blooming.  In honor of my grandparents I had peonies in my wedding last June.

Gerbera daises remind me of cheerfulness. Each daisy is a vibrant explosion. It is the equivalent of a warm bear hug on a bad day.

Today rolled around and I needed some cheerfulness. As the semester rushes to an end, I find myself struggling to keep pace.

I walked to my classroom after lunch and found an envelope on my desk. Any other time of the year this would be unusual. (Right now I am averaging 2-3 graduation invites a day)

I picked up the card and put it on the stack of graduation invites. In my final prep, I decided to start to map out graduation parties, and I discovered that the envelope was a thank you card.

The card was from a senior who moved here in January. If you look closely, the card has three flowers on it. Teaching isn’t easy, but little things like this make me love what I do.

This will be going in my teacher scrapbook. 🙂

 

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