I understood when writer Alice Walker wrote that when she received one of her first checks for her writing she used it to buy lamb chops . . . and . . . flowers. Food for the stomach, food for the soul, so to speak. Flowers add to my soul.
This bouquet, hand-picked in the countryside by our Swiss neighbors, have extra meaning. I can picture them making their decisions on which to pluck. Their delicateness carries a different kind of beauty.
That I no longer have to save up for flowers is a reward for hard work and aging. That I can splurge on more than one is a joy without losing the appreciation of having beauty in my home is a gift denied to too many.
If I ever forget how lucky I am, will someone, anyone please remind me.