How do I know this? Well, the stunning Olivia Dean convinced me with her magical song, I Could Be a Florist.
In the song, she imagines herself as a florist, becoming a familiar fixture in her little neighborhood. Someone who knows the people who come through her door, understands a little about their lives, and helps them say the things they can't quite find the words for.
There's a line in the song about giving daisies to crazies, which, as it turns out, I can relate to more than you might imagine.
Not long ago, a woman wandered into our shop. She was immediately taken with the atmosphere and the flowers, and we struck up a conversation. She had a towel wrapped around her head and appeared to have blood running down her head. As we talked, I tried to make sense of the person standing in front of me. She appeared to be missing an ear, a few other things and I was fairly certain there was a wild life story here.
The conversation was a little confusing, and I wasn't entirely sure where it was going. Eventually, I realized that what I thought was blood was actually red hair dye. Apparently, she'd decided to stop into our flower shop right in the middle of coloring her hair.
As one does.
I quickly and somewhat nervously ran out of things to say.
And then Olivia Dean's lyric popped into my head.
I offered her a daisy.
Moment rescued.
I've discovered that this is one of the great things about owning a flower shop. Whenever I feel awkward, don't know quite how to connect with someone, or simply want to offer a small gesture of kindness, I can hand them a flower.
It's remarkable how often that simple gesture changes everything.
A smile appears. The conversation opens up. Something that felt awkward or distant suddenly becomes warm and human.
Four years ago, I wouldn't have understood any of this. Reflecting today and witnessing this phenomena now, I'm embarrassed to say that i barely ever bought Amy flowers. The economic/ housing crash of 2008 sent me into a utilitarian tailspin. Just survival. A journey of vulnerability and intentionality has opened my eyes.
Now I get to witness it almost every day.
I've watched teenage love trying desperately to gain traction, with a nervous young man standing at our counter asking for help with the wording on a card. I've watched crusty old guys come in looking for something to give their wives, perhaps hoping to breathe a little life into a tired relationship.
We've helped people celebrate new babies, anniversaries, birthdays, and ordinary Tuesdays. We've also made arrangements for people navigating grief, illness, disappointment, and the messy business of being human.
Sometimes people walk through our door overflowing with joy. Other times, they're carrying something heavy. Most of the time, we have no idea what is happening in their lives.
But we get to help them offer something beautiful to another person.
There's another part of Olivia Dean's song about having just the right bouquet when someone needs to apologize but can't quite find the words.
I love that idea.
Of course, flowers aren't a substitute for saying you're sorry, having a difficult conversation, or doing the work of repairing a relationship. But they can crack the door of vulnerability and connection by saying, I care enough to try.
When Amy and I opened mod + liv, I don't think either of us fully understood what we were getting into. We knew we wanted to create something meaningful together. And we knew we wanted our shop to feel like a place people genuinely enjoyed being.
What I didn't anticipate was how much I would enjoy the people.
The conversations. The stories. The awkward encounters. The unexpected moments of connection.
I never imagined that handing a stranger a single daisy could be one of the most satisfying parts of my day.
But here we are.
So, if you're standing in our shop wondering whether flowers are really going to communicate what you're hoping to say, I can tell you with confidence that they probably will. Even one.
The fact that you're standing there, thinking about someone else and wanting to reach them, already says quite a lot.
Sometimes the flowers just help finish the sentence.
1 Comment
This is beautiful dad, I smiled while reading it.