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The Blossoming Flower Whisperer | tipsvanila.com
I am the embodiment of ignorance when it comes to flowers. In terms of plants, I’m completely clueless. I only see red, blue, and yellow.
Please don’t get me wrong: I like flowers. When it comes to names, though, I’m from another planet. I don’t need to know what a flower’s name is to appreciate it. Instead, I prefer the scent and aesthetics of a flower bed.
Flowers wouldn’t survive more than 24 hours if I had to care for them. Just because you like something doesn’t guarantee you understand how to care for it.
The Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage, on the other hand, is a true specialist when it comes to plant life and the development of flowers. She grew raised on a farm and learned how to care for plants from her father, who was also a farmer.
I give her lots of room in this area since I am a nice spouse. However, I am aware of what I should avoid, and this is one of them.
I know she wouldn’t be a happy planter if one of her flowers didn’t bloom the way she intended it to. So I remain away from the flowers to support her in this domain. Instead, I stand back and observe them from afar, complimenting my wife on her attractiveness. That earns me a few kudos, which I really need.
I heard my wife chatting a few weeks back as I walked through the glass door that leads out to the porch area. I imagined she was chatting to our neighbors since I didn’t want to bother her. This occurs often. I wouldn’t go so far as to say it’s “gossip,” but it’s close.
I just ignored it and went about my business. I heard the same thing the following day, but I couldn’t understand what she was saying, so I figured she was talking to our neighbor again.
This occurred a few times, and as someone who is naturally curious, I wanted to know who she was talking to and what they were discussing.
I don’t gossip, but I do like hearing it to keep up with what’s going on in the world.
“Oh, you look so wonderful today,” she said as I tried to listen.
That piqued my interest. I’ve never heard my neighbors comment about how lovely they are. So I simply passed it off as rubbish from the neighbors.
As I walked by the door the next day, I overheard her remark, “Do not be concerned about the rain. I’ll look after you.”
“I’ll be cautious, and guarantee this won’t hurt; it’s something I need to do,” she said.
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“”See,” she said affectionately, “I told you it wouldn’t hurt.” As a result, you’ll seem to be a lot more attractive.”
At the time, I had no desire to know what was going on in the world. I had no idea who she was speaking with or what was going on.
I was torn between walking away and pretending I hadn’t heard anything. Should I go out and find out what was going on for myself?
I believe that once you walk into a puddle of water, you will never be able to get out.
“Don’t worry, little buddy,” I heard, “I’ll come to you shortly.”
I’ve had enough at this point. I was determined to find out what was going on no matter what it took.
“Who are you talking to?” I said as I opened the door and went out onto the porch.
She gave me one of her infectious grins as she glanced at me and added, “I’m conversing with my flowers. Aren’t they lovely?”
I know what it’s like to be in a situation where you don’t know what to say since I’ve been a spouse for a long time. This was not one of them, unfortunately.
As far as I was concerned, anybody talking to flowers seemed a little ridiculous.
“Do they ever speak back?” I said after a little silence.
“Silly kid, they’re flowers, and flowers don’t speak,” she answered, laughing.
She then returned her attention to her flowers, and I could hear her conversing with them. Her talking to them seemed to be working since all of the flowers were blossoming nicely.
I returned to my office and started to ponder this. I can communicate with a dog, a cat, or even a horse. It simply doesn’t make sense to me when you speak to a flower.
After further consideration, who am I to argue that chatting to flowers is good to their growth? The flower is the ultimate outcome, and that is what we value.
While I was thinking about it, I decided to check up some Scripture on the subject, and I came upon one that blessed my heart. “The earth’s blossoms bloom; the season for bird song has arrived, and the turtle’s voice may be heard in our country” (Song of Solomon 2:12).
I suppose the delicacy and smell of a budding flower are in the voice that soothes it, in my wife’s opinion. When God speaks to me, I begin to bloom as well.