I have said it before and I will say it many more times… I want to have a farm when I grow up, but for now I am limited to the confines of apartment living. I grew up on a small homestead where my father bred day lilies. In my teens, he introduced me to the exquisiteness of Georgia O’keefe’s work, ever since I’ve been intrigued and captivated by the beauty of flowers.
I have always operated under the philosophy when living in an apartment: if a plant can live here, I can live here. In my apartment now, I struggle to keep plants alive. My living room has a large sliding glass door to lets some light in but my bedroom only has one window. The window faces the parking lot, so as you can imagine to avoid giving neighbors a show, the curtain is always drawn. I realize this begins to raise questions, should I even be living here? (Probably not. I fully intend to bust out like its Folsom Prison once my lease is up.) But until then, what can I do about my cave of a bedroom?!
My solution: dried flowers. Maybe it was an impulse buy at my local grocery store, reaching for babies breadth like I knew what to do with it. When I went home and tied the bouquet up with twine and hung it on a nail in my outdoor storage closet. I kept my fingers crossed for two weeks and… Viola! Dried flowers! I slid the baby’s breath in a tall decanter with a display of old jars,bottles, and tins and problem solved: Flowers in my bedroom!