Y es, flowers have their language. Theirs is an oratory that speaks in perfumed silence, and there is tenderness, and passion, and even the lightheartedness of mirth, in the variegated beauty of their vocabulary. To the poetical mind, they are not mute to each other; to the pious, they are not mute to their Creator; and ours shall be the office, in this little volume, to translate their pleasing language, and to show that no spoken word can approach to the delicacy of sentiment to be inferred from a flower reasonably offered; that the softest impressions may be thus conveyed without offense, and even profound grief alleviated, at a moment when the most tuneful voice would grate harshly on the ear, and when the stricken soul can be soothed only by unbroken silence.
BY AMY STEWART
W hen I met Teresa Sabankaya fifteen years ago, she was working out of a kiosk on Santa Cruzs Pacific Avenue. Ive never seen a more exuberant flower shop, or a smaller one: from a workroom not much larger than a telephone booth, Teresa snipped stems, wrapped bouquets, and coaxed fragile, seasonal blooms into heartfelt arrangements. All around her, on the sidewalk, a dazzling array of fresh-picked dahlias, sunflowers, lilies, and sweet peas enticed passersby.
And it was impossible, really, to pass the shop by. Even in those days, before every experience went straight to Instagram, people stopped to gawk and take pictures. Everything Teresa had on offer was, in some way, unusual: jars of blowsy, wildly fragrant garden roses on short stems, tiny bright bluebells that belonged in an English meadow, and stalks of lilac that would only be on the market for three weeks, because their season was so fleeting.
Anyone who stopped long enough would meet Teresa herself, who would appear with pruning shears in one hand and silk ribbon in the other, plus a sunny smile and a gracious Texas accent. Shed tell you about the origins of her flowersmany came from her own garden, and some from fellow gardeners who would just drive up with buckets of blooms in the backseatand then shed introduce you to their hidden histories and meanings. An herb for compassion, a budded branch for hope, a sprig of tiny blooms for affection.
I learned from Teresa to choose my flowers by occasion. Rather than ask for a dozen roses, or a bouquet in pink and yellow, I would tell her, I need a bouquet for a rather elegant executive whos retiring, or Id like something for a friend expecting her first baby. What Teresa came up with was always wonderfully handmade, one-of-a-kind, and perfect for the occasion.
A posy invites scrutiny. It asks for a little attention, a bit of consideration. A posy is small enough to hold between the palms, but it delivers a world of sentiment. By reviving the lost art of sending messages in the form of a nosegay, Teresa manages to do something more than sell a pretty, perishable product. She puts her heart into it, too.
Now, with the same generosity of spirit that inspired her to launch her flower shop, Teresa has woven her wisdom, spirit, and artistry into this beautiful book. In these pages youll see that anyone can make a posy. Like a favorite recipe, its meant to be savored and shared. I hope youll be inspired to try it yourself, and to welcome a bit of floral enchantment into your life.
T he greatest influence and inspiration for me to write this book came from a book. It was a book that I bought back in 1994, titled Tussie-MussiesThe Victorian Art of Expressing Yourself in the Language of Flowers, written by Geraldine Adamich Laufer. I kept this book in my nightstand, and over the course of several years I would retrieve it and thumb through the pages. Looking at these pretty little nosegays made me feel so romantic, and so nostalgic for a long-ago time when folks were sentimental about things like nature and flowers. The idea that each of the flowers, plants, and herbs used in these tussie-mussies had a meaning attached to it captivated me. And each tussie had a line drawn from the flower, leaf, or herb with an explanation as to what kind of plant it was, and its definition in the language of flowers. This book made me realize that I see these flowers growing along the roadside all the time! The wild hazel growing along my country road had such powerful meanings: poetic inspiration, meditation, knowledge... and it made me wonder why on earth dont we use flowers to communicate our most intricate messages anymore?
Through the years, I have collected many books on the language of flowers and they have all inspired me each in their own way. Some are vintage, with very old pages tattered and worn from being thumbed through by countless hands. The bindings are soft and worn and the delicate pages hint of their long-gone gilt edges. These books take me back in time and I enjoy the feeling I get as I submerge myself into the forgotten world of coded floral messages. I feel the company of earlier owners as I hold each book gently, turning the pages ever so carefully. I wonder about the books now-departed owners; who were they? And were they as charmed by this mystical and magical language as I am? My gratitude is boundless to all those before me who have written about the language of flowers and floral symbolismthank you for influencing me to write this book.
I owe tremendous gratitude to Debra Prinzing, who is my friend and colleague. Debra is a writer, speaker, founder of Slow Flowers, and a leading advocate for American-grown flowers. In 2015, Debra was visiting me, staying in my little garden guesthouse. I had been thinking of writing a book about posies and the language of flowers for some time already, but I wanted her opinion on the idea. I made a sweet posy for her to test the waters, and I left it by her bedside in the little cottage, awaiting her arrival. The posy I gifted to Debra wasnt by any means the first posy I had ever created and gifted to someone, but it was the posy that would be the determining factor on whether I should pursue the book ideaor not! Well, Debra adored the posy, and she loved the idea of incorporating it into modern floral design, especially in a book.