I have even looked at the shop online, and swooned over pictures like the one above, from the florist’s flower farm. But somehow, still, never made the time to pull over, take a timeout from my usual routine, and just go inside.
Well, until today.
I thought that if I wouldn’t make the time to stop for me, I would make the time to stop for my house, which I figured really deserved a bouquet of peonies for being such a great house, creative outlet, and partner in crime.
And so I went in. I will have to go back with my camera to share the beauty of the original moldings and hardwoods circa 1918 and ubber tall ceilings with windows full of natural light. It was beautiful. And so were the peonies.
I was a bit overly excited when talking to the florist. I told her that I always drive by and was so excited to finally stop and see the inside of her shop! Apparently this florist hasn’t been longing for me to visit like I have been longing to visit her shop . . . but whatever, they took Visa and I was happy.
I somehow felt that God was happy too. Silly I am sure, but there I was with my five beautiful peonies, on a sunny Friday morning in June, and I felt a precious joy that I know can only come from Him. After all, I know who designed and grew my peonies.
He has a great eye for color.
And as I opened that big heavy stained glass door of that big old floral shop and stepped out into the morning sunshine with my armful of flowers, I could almost hear Him saying, what took you so long?
I grew them just for you.