Flower Profiles Novels & Stories

But what pulled my heartstring was the colours. Soft blue and blush pink, bundled with a frail, white paper wrap. But it wasn’t just the scent that steals something delicate from deep inside me. It was the colours. A blush pink can be hard to find but a pale blue… that’s even rarer than finding water in a drought. I was compelled to inhale. Sweet, slightly powdery with a distinct spicy fragrance. The corner of my mouth tips with a soft smile as I touched the petals-fingers grazing softly over the tenderness.

“And what would you say makes your shop unique?” “We grow almost all of our own flowers,” she explained. “Local, sustainable, and we have varieties you can't find anywhere else. Plus, I like to think we add a personal touch. Flowers speak, Olivia. They tell stories. We just help them along.” I nodded, understanding. “What’s your favorite part of the job?” Her eyes softened. “I love the hidden messages behind flowers,” she explained. “It’s called floriography. We all know that red roses are symbolic of romance, but did you know that certain flowers can indicate deeper messages?”

It was challenging for Lola to discover more details from Caesar's clothes, as they were nearly spotless, except for the occasional barely noticeable stains. Caesar's clothes carried only his pheromone scent. Lola closed her eyes, covered her face with his shirt and trousers, and tried to find more information. For example, there was a tiny, almost indistinguishable trace of Mayflower pollen on Caesar's pants hem. The Mayflower, deep blue and cold-resistant with a long blooming period, had once won a horticultural society garden excellence award. Many aristocratic families liked to plant this flower in their homes... But it was June to August, and it was impossible for the flower to bloom at

" Relax Roy, it's a flower too. That's the one I chose for your Grandma. It's really lovely; my Grandma loved it. I intend to combine all of the colors: red, white, pink, and purple. I saw a vintage Roseville Spanish Moss Pattern vase. Wisteria makes a terrific cut flower, so it would look perfect. "Ok, I do not know what you just said now, but I think I'll pick a tulip, and we can head out." "There's no rush, Roy; after all, you can't just tell me to help you out, then do shit, you're buying that flower."She says and walks back to the lady, telling her everything she just got from Roy. "The flower's round the other way," she says, directing her with her hands. "Check gently, you'll find it.

The air was filled with the sweet, heady scent of blooming flowers, transporting visitors to a serene oasis amidst the rural chaos. Inside, the shop was divided into cosy, intimate spaces, each showcasing a different aspect of the florist's art. To the left, a stunning display of fresh-cut flowers overflowed from gleaming glass vases, their colours and textures expertly arranged to create a visual masterpiece. Roses, carnations, and sunflowers mingled with exotic blooms, each one perfectly placed to create a symphony of hues and shapes.

she replied, sipping her drink. “Then you should go for a masculine arrangement with a strong, solid structure like the anthurium, tulips or even a bouquet of big, bold, cherry sunflowers. No one might be crazy about a sweet scented flower but don't you think a flower with a spicy scent might just be the ticket?” “Like a purple or dark red carnations with a clove-like aroma? Or perhaps, some frilly flowers like stephanotis could fix the problem?” “Great, don't forget to add a beautiful note and maybe a canape box, those go well for men.”

Sibyl’s POV A breeze came and I smelled a very nice scent. The smell was light, mixed with the scent of roses and Lily of the valley, and a hint of post-rain grass. I sniffed, OH, it also has the smell of the Phoenix Flower. The Phoenix Flower is a nearly extinct flower. It is very strict with the temperature, light and humidity of the living environment, so it is difficult for them to survive. But their flowers are extremely beautiful and give off a fascinating smell.

I say. "Three days," he says. "When the plant reaches its full height — which will take at least one more season, possibly two — it flowers for exactly three days. The flowers are small. White, with a yellow centre. Unremarkable to look at." He pauses. "But the smell—" "The sea," I say.

There were hundreds of plants scattered all over with flowers of miscellaneous shapes and sizes and shades of purple. As I moved deeper into the greenhouse, my senses were overwhelmed by the fragrance of lavender, tulips and roses filling the air with their soothing aromas. I watched awe struck and a sense of calmness washed over me as I stepped towards a large potted heliotrope, releasing its sweet, intoxicating scent like reminiscent of vanilla and cherry. The deep purple blooms of the heliotrope contrasted magnificently with the surrounding green foliage and the flickers of the first light that filtered through the glass.

“It’s obviously either red or yellow, I don’t know of any grey muted colored flowers, the center even looks black.” I plant my butt on the grass next to him, “this is Crimson Beebalm,” I touch the petals, “this one is bright red but they can be a lot darker than this. Red is,” I take a second to think as his smile makes my brain short circuit, “hot, intense, and even dangerous. But this flower is all talk and no show. It’s edible and used for medicine,” I tell him as I begin to pluck some of the flowers out of the earth. “I’ve never had a color described to me,” he admits with a smile of appreciation on his face.