Slow Flowers. Debra Prinzing
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slow flowers
Four Seasons of Locally Grown Bouquets from the Garden, Meadow and Farm
slow flowers
Four Seasons of Locally Grown Bouquets from the Garden, Meadow and Farm
DEBRA PRINZING
author and co-creator of The 50 Mile Bouquet
Slow Flowers Four Seasons of Locally Grown Bouquets from the Garden, Meadow and Farm
Text and Images
Copyright © 2013 Debra Prinzing
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
ISBN-13: 978-0-9832726-8-7
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012940820
CIP information available upon request
First Edition, 2013
St. Lynn’s Press . POB 18680 . Pittsburgh, PA 15236
412.466.0790 . www.stlynnspress.com
Book Design – Holly Rosborough
Editor – Catherine Dees
Horticultural Editor – Diane Szukovathy
Author Photographs © Mary Grace Long
Photo on page 61 © Ellen Spector Platt
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Printed in Canadaon certified FSC recycled paper using soy-based inks |
This title and all of St. Lynn’s Press books may be purchased for educational,
business, or sales promotional use. For information please write:
Special Markets Department . St. Lynn’s Press . POB 18680 . Pittsburgh, PA 15236
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2
TO THE FLOWER FARMERS AND FLORISTS OF
THE SEATTLE WHOLESALE GROWERS MARKET COMMUNITY,
ESPECIALLY TO KIM KRAJICEK MILLIKIN
AND NICOLE MONIQUE CORDIER,
WHOSE FRIENDSHIP MADE MY BOUQUET-MAKING EFFORTS
MEANINGFUL EVERY WEEK OF THE YEAR.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Doing it Yourself, With Style: Floral techniques, aesthetics, care, resources/supplies
STOP, SMELL – AND GATHER THE ROSES
My 52 Weeks of Local Flowers
One of the joys of gardening is to step out my back door and clip a few sprigs to bring inside. The day’s prettiest blooms and just-unfurled leaves – gathered simply into a bunch and displayed in a jar of water – provide everything I need to start the day. The tiny arrangement graces my kitchen counter or brightens a spot by the keyboard, connecting me with the natural world even when I’m “stuck” indoors, away from my beloved garden.
Is this floral design?
I guess it is, but like avid gardeners everywhere, I certainly never considered myself a florist. After all, despite hundreds of hours of horticulture training, I never once studied the art of flowers, other than one weekend class on liturgical arrangements that I took with my Episcopal priest friend Britt Olson. Floral design was an entirely different sort of activity for which I wasn’t qualified (I thought). I’m a writer and a lover of plants, but not an artist. I have written about floral design for years, interviewing top florists around the country for articles in magazines like Seattle Bride, Romantic Homes and Sunset. I loved reporting those stories, and I have to admit feeling a twinge of jealousy as I listened to flower artists answer questions about their style and technique, their use of botanicals and vessels – and especially, their inspiration.
I have spent my life observing and writing about creative people. But I didn’t really believe that I was one of them! I was the classic journalist: a detached outsider documenting what she heard and saw.
Yet writers are sponges and driven by an insatiable, need-to-know curiosity. In pursuit of our stories, we can’t help but absorb knowledge about myriad topics, taught to us by generous subjects whose own passion is infectious. That’s exactly what happened to me while story-gathering for my most recent project, The 50 Mile Bouquet. I loved shaping the narrative about the many talented individuals who are part of the local flower movement.
During the creation of that book with photographer David Perry, my own bouquet-making activity was on the rise. I was beginning to see the gardens around me in a new way: in all four seasons, rather than only during July when the perennials peaked. The palette of possibilities expanded greatly, thanks to my interviews with the gifted flower farmers and designers profiled in The 50 Mile Bouquet.
My previously-spontaneous bouquet-making gestures soon became a weekly ritual. I discovered that just like designing a container garden or a display border, there is great satisfaction in choosing flowers and companion elements – and then assembling them into a beautiful composition in just the right vase.
I often photographed my design process. Documenting each step seemed like a good idea, either for my own reference, for a blog post or to illustrate a future lecture.
And then, one September day as I was making a bouquet out of burnished autumn leaves, green millet seed heads and the last dahlias of the fading summer, I had a brainstorm that led to the birth of this book, Slow Flowers. I jotted down some ideas, including