Op-Ed from Amy Stewart

The following is an Op-Ed piece by Amy Stewart that was published in the New York Times on February 14, 2007. Amy writes a gardening/chicken blog, Dirt, and is a founder and contributer of Garden Rant blog.

Local Color

If a city is an ecosystem, the flower shop is perhaps its most vital and endangered habitat. In the last 15 years, the number of florists in the United States declined 17 percent. In 1992, there was a florist for every 9,300 Americans; now florists must serve, on average, more than 12,000 people each — if they serve them at all. Half of cut flower purchases are made at supermarkets now, and less than a third of American households buy flowers in a year. It’s no wonder that third-generation florists are closing their doors. But if flower shops go extinct, what have we lost?

The urban florist is a fairly recent invention. In 1864, this newspaper observed that “a few years ago, the business of selling out flowers and bouquets was confined to one or two peripatetic vendors of cheap trash; now we mention it as evidence of growing taste.” The florists of Broadway, the account continued, filled their shop windows with “a profusion of costly exotics.” Flowers were no longer a crop to be sold out of the back of a greenhouse or from a street cart; they had become horticultural jewels, and florists earned their place alongside the city’s other luxury shops.

Since then, flower shops have been green spots of nature in the city. They mark the change of the seasons, even in this age of global commerce when roses come from Ecuador and orchids from Thailand and peonies from New Zealand. Gnarled branches of cherry blossoms emerge in shop windows in March, followed by a show of lilac so short that it will make even the most harried city dweller’s heart ache for the brevity of spring.

Sunflowers spill onto the sidewalks in summer, attracting honeybees from hidden rooftop hives. And in the middle of a winter snowstorm, nothing is as gloriously alive as the inside of a flower shop, with its chrysanthemums and tulips as bright as flames.

Florists don’t just celebrate nature; they celebrate us as well. New York City alone sees 169 marriages a day, 340 births and 157 deaths. Florists understand what it is that we cannot quite bring ourselves to say at these moments; they wrap up a few dozen delicate, ephemeral blossoms and rush them across town to do the job for us.

A florist in Hattiesburg, Miss., who just closed his family’s shop after over a century in business, remembered that drunks would sometimes wake his father up in the middle of the night, demanding flowers so their wives would let them come home. Without a florist to finesse our clumsy emotional transactions, we might all be sleeping on the stoop.

But today florists are grappling with the same problems faced by other specialty stores. Supermarket chains, discount clubs and Internet retailers use their buying power to purchase directly from growers, selling bouquets at prices that can be lower than what mom-and-pop florists pay at wholesale. We’ve bought into the myth that flowers are too expensive, sacrificing the sensual delights and emotional comforts of the flower shop along the way.

In fact, it is surprising how affordable flowers really are: 120 years ago, the best roses sold in New York for $18 a dozen, and arrangements went for $40 or $50 — this at a time when hotel rooms rented for $5. Today a bouquet costs about the same as it did then, but $5 won’t cover cab fare to a hotel, much less a room for the night.

It’s puzzling to florists that their wares, those exquisite purple lilies and sweet heavenly freesias, must be sold at bargain-basement prices to get anyone’s attention. A dozen roses, a florist will remind you, still cost less — and last longer — than a dinner out, a night at the theater or a bottle of good Champagne.

This is the challenge facing florists: they must hold the attention of the distracted shopper rushing past on the street. They have to convince us to choose irises over iPods, magnolias over Manolos. This is especially critical every Feb. 14, when they hope to earn about a third of their annual revenue in one day.

I once sat in a florist’s workroom on Valentine’s Day, and I listened as desperate husbands and lovesick suitors called seeking the calm, good-natured help of a stranger who understood what was at stake. You can place your heart into the hands of a florist. Flower shops remind us who we are — fragile, transitory creatures, not nearly as tough as our suits and our briefcases make us look. They call our attention to the passing of spring, and to the fullness of love. Every city needs that.

More Turkey Talk

The turkeys are still with us, well some of them are. Beth was lucky to find them walking in a line a couple of days ago and counted 11 of them. The group has broken up but four of them are still with us. I don’t know what the social interactions are with turkeys and if associations and partings are common behavior, especially in winter. Perhaps it’s as simple and complicated as available shelter, water, and food.

There are many trees for sheltering and the birds have selected trees in a protected area by the big creek in back for roosting areas. They start heading for the trees about two hours before sundown, seeking perching places in the high branches. They look like tailless tadpoles in the trees and usually face into a prevailing wind. Water is available in the creek at the base of the trees. The creek is shallow but has never completely iced over. Some areas of the creek become constricted, forcing water through narrow banks. The creek bed is heavily lined with gravel and liberally strewn with rocks, creating a miniature flume of rushing water.

Turkeys spend most of their time on the ground, like pheasants, quail, and grouse, searching for food. In addition to all of our burdock, we have seen them eating the brilliantly colored fruit of Sumac (Rhus typhina). The fruits are on the tips of the branches, about ten feet from the ground, and it is amusing to see a daredevilish large bird among them. Some of the birds will peck at the “harvester’s” feet, to force him out of the way or encourage quicker work I’m not sure. The rest will be on the ground, gleaning the tailings of another’s effort.

Three of the turkeys found the suet and bird feeders up by the house. They were unable to make the connection between the feeders set up high to the edible morsels on the ground but seemed to greatly enjoy their troves. We flushed them away, incidentally of course, and as they flew away to safety heard them make a quiet 2-note call of alarm and warning. It wasn’t a sound I would have associated with large birds and probably never would have connected it to a turkey if I hadn’t heard it myself.

Turkey Week

turkey in the dog run

A small flock of turkeys is visiting. Numbering about seven birds, they usually visit us for a short period of time each winter. I first noticed them two days ago as large dark blobs down by the big creek. The dark blotches looked too regular to be rocks or stumps so I aimed binoculars on them and they focused into “our” turkeys.

“Our” is figurative, of course, as there is no way to determine if they are the same group as before and we certainly don’t own them. Unlike domestic turkeys, which are renown for their stupidity and lack of good sense, wild turkeys are interesting to observe. One member is posted as the lookout, usually in an elevated position, while the rest of the birds seek for food on the ground. They search for seeds, usually burdock at this time of year, and methodically cover large areas in their quest. One adventurous chap (or chip!) came all the way up to the house and was seen pecking at tufts of exposed lawn grasses by the deck. I didn’t know they grazed but surmise anything that is green and herby has appeal during the winter

Besides gobbling, which I have only heard in the spring, turkeys have a range of vocalizations. I startled the group when I found them in the front half of the horse run, up by the road. The lookout gave a quiet 2-note call but they all heeded it. They moved away from me in an unhurried yet wary manner, gauging their response to my closeness and actions. I am speculating when I say warning calls may vary in type and volume depending on an internal threat index but that is how it seemed. In other seasons I hear turkeys making one-note calls on the hillsides but rarely see them.

I don't know if this group is habituated to humans but they seem unusually brave to be out and about, almost brazen, and certainly unfrightened in their behavior. Many people shoot or trap animals around us, essays for other days, so I don't know why the turkeys are being so open. I think their presence, besides giving us pleasure and a source of amusement, is indicative of a healthy environment. These are some of the native animals, parts of the natural fauna that are supposed to be here, and I'm glad they are.

Blowing in the wind

California Dreamin'? Nah!

We finally dug ourselves out, mostly, and enjoyed the beautful and bountiful snow from last week. I'm cheating with this picture from several years ago, as the snow is much higher than this. But it does give a glimpse of something I always try to do when I'm clearing snow, making annexes to the main cleared areas. They're usually made to aid the dogs and clear out some play areas. I haven't been able to make my usual broad areas and have made small aisles for accessing the bird feeder and suet feeder. We have a small deck on the back of the house and I always blow the snow away after we push it off so this will be the dogs' new play area. We blew through 5 gallons of gas so fast it was scary, but absolutely necessary. I'm still haunted by our first winter here when I was unable to keep up with hand shoveling the snow away. And who knew I would be prescient, for once, and bought a new auger belt for the snow blower a few weeks ago, especially when it seemed the snows would never be coming.

Aisle leading to the bird feeder.
A bird bath in front of the big grass is buried

Snow Jobbed

Well I did it again and posted to Cold Climate Gardening.

Check out Snow Days of Winter
and Kaleidoscope Skies

February Header

A new month and a new header. This is a picture of the gate to an area we call the horse run, previously mentioned in this post. We call it the horse run because the previous owners fenced it in, providing additional grazing for their horse. It bisects two fallow corn fields and is bordered with trees on each of the long sides. The road is to the immediate left and the runoff creek is behind the photographer, running parallel to the run. There is a gravel wash at the far end several hundred feet away, allowing creek access for watering the livestock.

This has become one of our favorite areas for visiting and walking, although we didn't realize its potential our first few years here. We were still overwhelmed by the spaces encompassing us and finding a balance to living here and it wasn't an area that received much focus. We recognized its beauty after a neighbor brush-hogged it and have been keeping it mowed ever since. Unlike the mowed meadow around our house, the turf in the run is mostly grass, creating a park-like setting. With the large trees protecting it and the creek running along its flank, it is a special place for birding and exploring.

Click 'read more' to see the full picture.

horse run gate in winter

I like when the gate poles are crowned with spheres of snow. I don't know why they are uneven in length but it makes for a more interesting visual. The shorter post is covered with Parthenocissus quinquifolia (Virginia creeper), providing brilliant red fall color and another contrasting element. Two Larix (Larch) are visible with an apple tree between them. I had a devil of a time cropping this into a header, as I wanted to include the gate but needed to eliminate too much of the picture's relevance.