This weekend was the local garden club flower show and table setting competition. They hold one every December at the local library. I arrived at the show a little after 4:00. The crowd in the lobby of the library let me know I was not alone in my temporary detour of holiday shopping. The day was cool and overcast. Last night’s news announced an incoming storm, but it hasn’t arrived yet. I removed my coat and took a long look around. The community room was full of tables displaying each exhibitor’s entry. There were classes for horticulture (cut specimens), decorated items like wreaths and swags. But, the stars of the show were the table settings, place settings and floral arrangements, big elaborate displays for holiday gatherings, intimate dinners and trays by the fire. The judging had already taken place by the time I arrived, so each entry was adorned with their respective ribbon.
Out in the lobby there was a plant sale, a fundraiser for the club. I gravitated to it like a bee to flowers. I always enjoy the clubs’ plant sales, they have been a great and inexpensive help in filling my flowerbeds. The ladies have such an interesting variety it’s hard to walk away empty handed. There were plenty of familiar faces. Some of the ladies I have known since childhood.
I was six years old when I entered my first flower show, just a year after we moved to this area. My mom had joined the local garden club as a way to meet new people. Little did she know that it would turn into a family affair, lasting more than 30-years. I can still remember that first entry. It was a dish garden, a foot-long rectangular dish arranged with flowers and shrubs. It had a pond with ducks and fence; a little barn in the corner. Even back then I was a farmer at heart.
As I strolled through the room looking over the exhibits I stopped and visited with the club ladies who worked on the show. Some of them still remembered me entering flower shows well into my teen years; I remembered those who taught me the correct way to display my cut specimens and those who taught me my flower arranging skills. It was like spending the afternoon with distant family members you only see a few times a year. Here I was on a cloudy winters’ day, with long time friends and a cup of hot tea celebrating the art of beautiful floral arrangements and a love of gardening. Part of me felt lucky, part of me felt blessed and then there was a part of me that felt part of a community, a community of women who enjoyed gardening as much as I did.
I didn’t enter this show and those of us who were just spectators listened intently as prize winners spoke of their exhibits like I speak of my daughter – proudly, lovingly. It was hard not to crack a smile when the conversation turned intense over the attributes of one table setting over another and whose roses were in the proper state of bloom to win the class. I tried to appear as impartial as possible but it’s hard when you’re put on the spot and asked for your opinion. Whenever the talk got heated I would comment on how wonderful that the show committee had included a flutist and violinist for background music. The ladies are cute, but I felt like a referee. Flower shows are serious business you know.
When I walked over to the window to check on the weather Pat, the lady in charge of the plant sale, handed me several iris bulbs to take home. I gladly accepted them (I’m a sucker for irises). I said my goodbyes and headed home. I had nothing special planned for this evening, just a warm fire and a good book, but I was excited to get back to the farm. Events like this make me feel glad to have found a group of people I can relate to. I look forward to these quiet easy winter months, it gives me time to plan my garden and to dream of green things growing. I want to participate at next years show, attend club meetings and be part of the group again because there just aren’t enough of them around here.
And, if I’m lucky, I may walk away with a ribbon or two.
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