Smellin' the Roses

Today was one of those days when my hectic life came to a dead stop- no running to Target or to the grocery store, no stopping for a cafe mocha (minus the whipped cream), no running into the office to finish off one last report or pick up work for next week, no taking the dogs to the vet or even the park. All because I had to stay home and wait for a delivery. A flower delivery, no less. Today I was living the adage about stopping to smell the roses - or at least I was waiting to smell them as soon as they arrived. You see, yesterday was my birthday. And it's typcial of my life right now that I had so many places to be yesterday that I couldn't even be home long enough to get the fabulously large and extravagant bouquet of red roses my favorite aunt and uncle always send me on my birthday. I had to call the florist this morning and beg them to deliver them today.

"I'm so sorry we missed you yesterday," the lovely lady at Kristi's flowers told me cheerily. "We'll be happy to bring them by this afternoon!"

So, I happily started pottering around the house, clearing up some of the detritius that has accululated over the past couple of weeks when I've been consumed with a large writing project at my office job, a weekend handbell festival in Ohio, and rehearsals at the high school for choral competition and muscial. Not to mention a sick dog the other night that required a late night run in the pouring rain to the nearest veterinary emergency room (he's fine now, thank you)! There were grungy socks and jeans to launder, some mysterious sticky substance to scrub off the kitchen floor, scattered piles of mail from which the multitude of credit card offers and catalogs must be sifted, and bills with due dates absolutely screaming "time is running out!"

I found myself taking great pleasure in chugging my way through these homely little tasks. It helped immensely that today was one of those teasing March days when the sun comes out, the wind blows briskly but not menacingly, and you can be pretty comfortable outside in a turtleneck and polar fleece hoodie. The doggies took advantage of the rugs I was airing on the back porch, and basked lazily and comfortably in the sun. I even cracked open a few windows to let some of that marvelous fresh air whisk through the house, dispersing the staleness of winter with a brisk coolness.

It was nearly 5:00 when the roses finally arrived. I was relaxing happily in my favorite chair, cushions newly turned and plumped, a chilled glass of wine at my side. I had cleared a spot for them on my cedar chest, dusted and polished it's surface to a fare thee well, and was looking forward to the richness their scent would add to my freshly cleaned house.

"So, you are home!" said the lovely delivery lady, whom I could barely see behind the huge bounty of the vase and opulent red shimmery bow tied around it's neck.

"I am indeed!" I answered proudly, taking her burden of beauty from her.

Such a gift those roses were today.