The Little Poppies that Could

Our bride last friday really, really, REALLY wanted poppies. When we met months ago I told her they would most likely be off market by June 8 but that I would try my best. I contacted wholesalers from California to New York and finally, at the very last of last minutes, Davis Wholesale, here in good ol' Birmingham, AL (Roll Tide!) came through with two bunches, mostly still in pods. I picked them up thursday and had to move them around my yard all day into prime sun spots and, one by one, I watched them open by friday afternoon. It was very exciting. They didn't all make it, but I think we scored enough to make them stand out in the bride's bouquet.

Please forgive my rather crazed photos of this bouquet...I just didn't have as much time to spend photographing her as I would have liked. It's a shame really because she was so pretty she made me cry. I'm not sure if it was that so much as the horrible fact that I had gone to a sweet friend's funeral the day before and kept thinking about her...two weddings and a funeral in one weekend. Thankfully I had beautiful flowers in my hands as I sat and thought about it all. Flowers really are theraputic.

Here we are loading up the truck with all our centerpiece wreath ingredients. I love these photos my niece Hailey took of us packing up and driving to the reception location. I like her little photo of her holding some queen anne's lace. Cute.

Good lord,  if you don't  go to pieces over a coral charm peony, your spirit must be in some serious trouble.  All hail the coral charm, she is majestic.

All said and done, I'm not sure Katie and I will be taking on two weddings in one weekend any time soon. She (damn her) got to go to Mexico for a week to recover and swill tropical drinks. I woke up sunday in a dirty house in Birmingham - left-over  flowers everywhere, my husky's ever-shedding hair swirling by in the style of massive tumbleweeds, laundry spilling out of the closet, etc. etc. - and decided the only way to  survive such a living hell was to drive myself 20 minutes or so out of town to Ross Bridge Resort and Spa and sit by a pool for two days and stare off into space with a copy of Vogue in my lap and a glass of chardonay at my side. The massage and mani/pedi helped too.