A Thank You Before Anything Else

Before I write about flowers, techniques, or arrangements, I need to begin with gratitude. 

This blog exists because of a place that quietly gave me the confidence to slow down and trust my own rhythm. 

Fifteen minutes from my front door, along a familiar stretch of sidewalk in Mount Dora, there is a small flower shop that became part of my weekly life long before I realized it was shaping my days.

Jennifer’s Shop

The shop is called Jennifer, named after its owner, Jennifer Collins. It is not flashy as there is no pressure to buy quickly or impress anyone. 

Buckets of flowers sit close to the door, stems resting in clean water, petals catching natural light. 

Plus, a small bell rings when the door opens, and every time I hear it, I feel like I have arrived somewhere that expects nothing from me except attention.

The First Conversation

I remember my first visit clearly because I stayed too long without choosing anything. Jennifer noticed immediately and asked me where the flowers were going, not what they were for. 

When I told her they were for my home, she relaxed, leaned slightly on the counter, and began talking to me as if we already knew each other.

She told me she was born in Gainesville and grew up around land rather than storefronts. She described a cottage house there, where her parents still raise cattle and grow hectares of vegetables and flowers. 

She spoke about learning patience through seasons that do not always behave as planned. Then she said something quietly, almost offhand, that stayed with me. “My flowers are taken care of carefully,” she said. “I don’t rush them, and I don’t force them.”

A Shop That Never Feels Empty

Jennifer’s shop is always full, though never crowded. On most days, there are over one hundred types of flowers available, shifting slightly with the seasons. 

Garden roses, spray roses, ranunculus, anemones, lisianthus, tulips, snapdragons, delphinium, and peonies when they arrive briefly and disappear just as fast. 

Hydrangeas are almost always there, along with chrysanthemums, alstroemeria, carnations, stock, and sunflowers that seem to brighten the entire room.

There are flowers I did not know before this shop. Scabiosa with their soft, dark centers. Hellebore that Jennifer treats gently because they bruise easily. Freesia that scent the air even before you touch them. 

Wax flower that lasts longer than it looks like it should. Celosia in warm, almost earthy colors. Zinnias that remind me of late summer. Sweet peas that Jennifer always warns me not to overcrowd.

The greenery deserves its own attention. Italian ruscus, salal, seeded eucalyptus, silver dollar eucalyptus, leatherleaf fern, olive branches, dusty miller, pittosporum, myrtle, and seasonal greens that Jennifer sometimes brings in from growers she trusts. 

She always tells me how they behave once they leave the shop, which ones drop leaves, which ones drink more water, and which ones forgive neglect.

Learning Through Conversation, Not Instruction

Over time, our conversations became part of my visits. Some days I walk in knowing exactly what I want. 

Other days I stand there unsure, and Jennifer asks how my house has felt lately. She once told me, “If you’re already tired, don’t take flowers home that need constant attention. Choose the ones that will stay kind to you.”

Another afternoon, while trimming stems, she said something that matched my own quiet shift in life. “Most people save flowers for special days,” she said. “But most days are just days. Those deserve beauty too.” 

I went home that afternoon with a simple arrangement and felt lighter than I had in weeks.

What Actually Works in a Real Home

Jennifer does not follow trends blindly. If I mention something I saw online, she tells me honestly whether it survives Florida humidity, whether it wilts under air conditioning, and whether it still looks good after the first day. 

She once gently talked me out of a complicated arrangement and suggested garden roses with eucalyptus and hellebore instead. That arrangement stayed on my dining table for nearly a week, changing slightly every day, and it taught me to stop overworking things.

Why I Am Thankful

When I look back on this past year, so many of my memories begin with that walk and end inside Jennifer’s shop. 

This place did not just sell me flowers, it gave me patience and permission to treat beauty as something ordinary and necessary, not earned or postponed.