The Kailua Elementary farmers market is a short walk from church. By the time I get there after church, around 9:45am, the Hawaii topical botanical ladies are usually sold out, and people swan around the market with armfuls of impossible-to-now-get arrangements. Heliconia in vibrant red and yellow, red and white ginger, long white stalks of cloying tuberose, tiny birds of paradise. Torture.
Usually there’s some anthurium left in the last bucket, but who wants that when it’s the last thing at the flower stand? And I already have a potted one wilting away on the kitchen counter.
The kids and I were headed to the honey slush stand when I stopped abruptly and bee-lined straight to the bucket of king proteas. I must have one. I paid $10 for a single massive bloom as big as Eloise’s head, then swanned around the market feeling aloof and glamorous. So basically French.
I added the prize flower, a native of South Africa, to a jar of cut Hawaiian tropicals I got a few days earlier and palm cuttings from my yard. The embroidery is a hand-stitched duvet I got the first time I met Chris in Singapore on a port call.
I love arranging flowers.