Dearest Eddie,

You moved a lot of flowers today. Specialty cut flower grower is a descriptive mouthful but I prefer to call you a purveyor of smiles. As I watch our teenaged granddaughter climb the silks this evening, you may still be asleep in your chair. You earned the nap after cutting flowers for 12 hours yesterday and being the face of Dr. Rob’s Garden at our farmers’ market all day. I would bet though that you got up and went back to your garden. Why?

You told me you were mentally reframing your why as you worked this week after Mint scolded you for overspending your Seeds budget, again. I know that little Eddie loved the plant hustle of Robertsons’ Greenhouse of yore, and Papa Eddie is not raking in the bucks. I am happy that you are occupied with something you love, organized in your days, and, certainly, exercised—all good things. Watching you, I have decided that smiles are your real why.

Flowers make you smile. I love to hear you call from the garden, “Come see.” You delight in bringing smiles to our life. Orchids to the dorm, corsages to dances, calendula in Calgary, caladium in Dallas, the fence rose war in Bartlesville; flower memories are part of our glue. Now, it is orchids on the mantel, roses in the kitchen, larkspur in the bathroom, and even zinnias in cut glass in the “event quality” porta-jons at our anniversary bash. Flowers and your smiles go together in my life, and I am grateful!

Your flowers make many people smile. In our market community, people react emotionally to the beautiful things you bring. Even if they don’t always buy, they stop, comment, enjoy, share memories. We hear tales of “my grandmother’s spider plants,” “my dad’s glads,” “the dahlias we had back home.” Your flowers access the flowers of memory, and people smile. Little kids get freebies from Dr. Rob, and often they return, calling you by name. Customer families come by the garden to visit and pick. Former students appear with mates and kids and dogs. New residents make friends around the flower stall. People with whom we taught VBS many years ago show up and share smiles once more.

Your flowers allow your customers to gift others. “My grandma will love these; she raised me.” “I’m decorating for a wedding.” “It’s dance recital day.” “My cousin loves flowers, and she can’t garden anymore.” “My wife really loved the bunch I bought from you last week.” “I’m getting one for my neighbor and one for me.” And they smile.

I am delighted that smiles have become what you would call a worthy why for all your hard work.  I am sure we will still count our dollars like you did the quarters in the box when you were a child. We will still be scolded by Mint. We will still lament the greenhouse propane bill. But we have a new shared understanding that the smiles generated by the beauty from your garden are  a perfectly adequate why for all the dedication you give. I love you, purveyor of smiles.

Sylvia