Pick a posy

I am back in the posy picking game! Over summer, despite having countless zinnias and cosmos, salvias and basil, hot days with no aircon while we’re at work meant that anything I picked had a vase life of maybe 2 days inside - if i was lucky. The only thing worse than no flowers is dead flowers. Brown petals, droopy stems and a sprinkling of black seeds all over the table underneath. Hard pass.

Back in the day (not my day, way way back in the day - like the 16th century) posies were also called ‘nose gays’ and were carried around by women to provide a spot of relief to their precious noses from the stench of life. People didn’t shower, they wore countless layers of clothing and sanitation was generally not what it was today. The streets would have a been a tad whiffy and ‘miasma theory’ - that infection was the result of breathing in bad odours - was rife. Nose gays were filled with scented geraniums, herbs and roses and helped freshen the air as it was inhaled, keeping you healthy!

‘Germ theory’ took over around the 19th century but nose gays or posies didn’t lose their appeal. And why would they! They were still pretty and still smelt lovely.

These days as life gets busier it seems that buying a bunch of flowers from the shops is more the norm - yes they may be bigger but they rarely smell as lovely (unless they’re filled with lilies, which may just suffocate you in your sleep). To me though, nothing says love and appreciation more than spending a few minutes walking around the garden picking at random, adding lots of dainty flowers that are never seen in the shops, with sprigs of herbs and blousy fragrant roses. Then after I’ve done my lap, coming back inside and wrapping them awkwardly in a scrunch of alfoil, trying not to make a hole that lets my little bit of water out. Or putting them in a drinking glass and delivering to that someone special, with a plea to return the glass because that wasn’t part of the present!

Never gets old.