There’s a saying I’ve always loved—“Plant your own garden and decorate your own soul instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.” And while I don’t remember exactly where I first heard it—turns out Luther Burbank the esteemed early 20th century botanist coined the expression—it’s one of those phrases that lodged itself in my heart. That’s what fresh flowers are to me. Not just decoration, but a declaration. A quiet, living reminder that beauty begins within.
With Happily Ever Always™, my philosophy has always been that luxury doesn’t have to be loud—but it must be layered. And that includes layers of life. A bed made with the finest linens, yes. A living room that holds memory and meaning, absolutely. But also, always, a vase of flowers.
Nature, In the Room
To me, fresh flowers begin with visual delight. But they quickly stretch beyond, to a deeper sense of being part of the earth, brought inside. They are living things—full of movement, breath, color. And unlike the human-made objects in my home, flowers are born of the universe’s own artistry. Not designed, but discovered. Not manufactured, but miraculous.
I’ve always thought it fascinating that cosmetics companies copy their pigments from petals. As if the blush of a peony or the edge of a tulip wasn’t already perfect. But that’s the power of flowers. They remind us of what’s possible when color, form, and delicacy come together—not to impress, but to express.
The Art of the Everyday Arrangement
My flower choices change with the season—and with my mood. Sometimes it’s a bouquet of all whites: lilies, roses, ranunculus, hydrangeas. Other times, I’ll bring home cattails or branches for height and structure. But no matter what’s in the vase, it’s a small ritual that restores me.
Because arranging flowers is about slowing down. It’s about the pleasure of running my fingers along a stem, cutting it at an angle, finding just the right vessel. And then—stepping back and admiring how nature and intention come together.
There’s something deeply grounding about that. It brings me into the moment. And that’s what a home should do: call you back to yourself.
Diversity as Beauty
One of the things I love most about flowers is the way they model coexistence. A bouquet doesn’t demand uniformity—it thrives in diversity. Tall next to short, frilly next to spare, lush next to spare. A truly beautiful arrangement is a lesson in composition and contrast. Which, if you ask me, is a pretty good metaphor for life—and for home, since a well-lived life isn’t curated to perfection. It’s full of contradiction, character, surprises. And when I see that reflected in my home—in a wildflower next to a calla lily, say—I remember that difference doesn’t dilute beauty. It amplifies it.
A Living Signature
In my own home, I think of fresh flowers as a signature. A calling card of sorts. They say: Someone lives here. Someone thoughtful. Someone present. And when I’m staging a space for a client or hosting guests in my own, the flowers are never an afterthought. They’re part of the experience. A whisper that says, You’re welcome here. You’re valued. And beauty matters.
What This All Reminds Me
Fresh flowers don’t last forever. That’s part of their magic. They teach us to honor impermanence—to find joy not in what endures, but in what lives fully while it lasts. So every week, I bring them home. I choose. I arrange. I admire. And in doing so, I don’t just decorate the room—I decorate the soul.
Because in the world of Happily Ever Always™, that’s what beauty is. Not static, but seasonal. Not flashy, but deeply felt. And always alive.