Today, the art of flower arrangement takes in a lot of territory; sometimes, it seems to me it includes everything but flowers.
Compositions are built around figures or masks; each pod, cone, or leaf that can be dried is approved; shells are popular—oyster, conch, and coral—and with these, cork.
I see cypress “knees,” wisteria and grape tendrils, parsnips, peppers, and pineapples. But what about flowers? A few tucked low “for accent” do not satisfy me.
Arrangements From Flower Garden’s Harvest
I want to see arrangements overflowing with the flower garden’s harvest—and these from February’s forced shrubs to November’s last chrysanthemum.
I don’t consider a study of glycerin-treated beech leaves the thing for April when fruit trees are budding, and narcissus drifts across the lawn.
In June, I want roses, masses of them-—not a distinguished and delicate vase of two buds and one bloom, though I prefer this to a pair of ceramic fishermen poised on a driftwood bank (which I can enjoy in January).
Through the summer, I want to see the garden’s glory—masses of delphiniums, petunias, Shasta daisies, zinnias, marigolds, sunflowers, and the many charming flowers from the meadow.
A basket of black-eyed Susan’s, Queen Anne’s lace, and such wild things in their season are utterly lovely, and we shouldn’t miss them.
Geraniums from garden or window boxes, gladioli, dahlias, tuberous begonias—let us use these freely, too—and repeatedly.
I’m not the only friend who arranges flowers. Have you ever listened to visitors’ comments as they wander through the exhibits at flower shows? They are illuminating and sometimes funny.
If you’ve ever tried to explain to a garden-minded man why a study of okra, skunk cabbage, and echeveria took the first prize or what was special about a composition of looped aspidistra and trimmed palm, you’ll find it’s difficult to do.
Arrangement Section
At one of the big shows, I watched one couple wander through the arrangement section in utter bewilderment.
Of course, there were some rather queer displays that year, but many of the arrangements were superb, though definitely “advanced.”
From the plants, seed packets, and gadgets my pair had bought, I knew they were ardent gardeners.
Finally, they stopped before the tricolor winner—three leafless branches making a setting for a lone beaver.
They studied it for a long while. Then the man said, “I thought we came to see flower arrangements. I like flowers!”
44659 by Helen Van Pelt Wilson