Wedding gift for father of the bride

Father of the bride

TIPS OF THE TRADE

HOW much? I'm sorry but I must have misunderstood. Really that much, eh? Gosh.

Such was the verbal dialog between me and the many people involved in putting my daughter's wedding together. But I digress, let me bring you up to date with the joyous happenings in the Armitage family and how they relate to this wonderful flower industry of which we are a part.

The News: "I am getting married!" Heather shouted with a happy grin; her mother and I were equally pleased. "And I want a big wedding with all my friends and lots and lots of flowers." So much for fleeting pleasure. The joy of my daughter's news was tempered with my much abused pocketbook, which resulted from her sister Laura's wedding three short years ago. "Dad," said Heather, "All you have to do is get the flowers" (and pay the bills, she could have added).

The Extras: The flowers seemed pretty simple until all the extras were mentioned.

"I have invited eight bridesmaids and one flower girl, as well as eight ushers and a ring bearer," Heather said. "They will all need arrangements and corsages. Laura will be my matron-of-honor and, by the way, I would like two of my young cousins to spread rose petals down the aisle."

Good grief, not only did I have to find a bazillion beautiful flowers, but flower parts, as well!

"And Daddy, can I have orchids and lily-of-the valley in my bouquet?" This was going to cost me a fortune, but with luck, I could talk to friends in the floral business. These flowers may not be too expensive - or so I thought.

The Garden Branch: Heather then proceeded to mention that her mother was arranging a brunch before the wedding for the two families and that the garden had to look tip-top. That should be easy enough - or so I thought.

"And by the way Dad, can you help with the problem of getting Jon to the wedding? He has to escort mom down the aisle."

The Problem With Jon: Heather's brother, Jonathan, is the starting shortstop for the University of Georgia. We had told Heather that this isn't Little League and Jon simply can't say, "Hey Coach, I can't play on Saturday." But Heather would have none of that. She could not understand how baseball would even be on the radar screen when she was getting married.

However, we talked her into having the wedding on a day the team was playing in town and to schedule it for 6:30 p.m., giving her brother sufficient time to get to the church after the game. Or so we thought.

The Bribe: "How much?" I said. Even after my good friends from Ecuador supplied the roses as a wedding gift and Scott, my former student in the cut flower trade in Atlanta, provided flowers at cost, the bill was still in the tens of hundreds. Of course, Scott's cost was significant because, as he said, "The problem with Heather is that she has great taste."

However, the time and labor involved for Yvette, the designer, to arrange the flowers and the add-ons like vases, containers, pedestals, greenery, and assorted filler flowers put me way above budget. But then I heard Yvette say the magic words, "I enjoy gardening and I love your books." After a few negotiations, I promised to do a design for her garden and provide signed copies of my books to her and her husband. Bingo, under budget!

The Voodoo Lily And The Brunch:

On the day before the wedding, the much-anticipated garden brunch was to take place. As Heather was doing her inspection, she sniffed around the back garden and held her nose yelling, "What is that stink!?"

I ran out of the house and yes, finally, the plant I had been anticipating all season was in full vibrant bloom - it was the Voodoo Lily Unfortunately, it smells like dead meat and emits an odor fit only for flies, beetles, and other animal species who live for that smell. Sadly, humans aren't one of them. Heather and I crossed paths as I was hurrying for my camera and she was searching for pruning shears.

After I had hidden all the cutting utensils in the house, I suggested people would enjoy seeing this phenomenon and I promised to tell everyone that this was indeed a good omen for the wedding. She suggested taking the brunch inside and to the front. A marvelous compromise was reached and (some) people truly were excited when I showed them the source of the stench. Heather figured it couldn't get any worse. She was wrong.

The Weather: The day of the wedding was pouring rain, not just a little shower, but cats and dogs. Since the reception was to be outdoors and a good deal of outdoor activity was planned, this was not a good thing. I never knew that teabags and cucumbers were used to reduce swelling around the eyes but after nonstop crying, Heather needed them. As I drove Heather, lathered in teabags and cucumber slices, to the beautician that rainy afternoon, I experienced the true meaning of father-daughter bonding.

"What else can happen?" she cried. And then the phone rang.

You Must Be Kidding: With the rain, Jon's game was delayed and he probably wouldn't make the wedding after all. "I'll ask the coach," he said, "But it doesn't look good." That was the last straw! With swollen lids and disgust in her voice Heather asked, "So if I died, does that mean that Jon couldn't come to my funeral because he had to play baseball?"

The Wedding March: The bride looked beautiful - seems that cucumber/teabag stuff really does work. The photos were scheduled before the wedding but the outdoor shots were impossible. Nevertheless, hundreds of photos were taken and I asked the photographer to be sure to include flower shots. Lots of them, because every time I turned around flowers were dripping from the church, from the attendants and, of course, from Heather's hands. I think daughters cause brain paralysis in fathers. She was so beautiful that the surmounting costs surrounding me became absolutely irrelevant.

And, hallelujah! the rain abated at about 5 p.m. and the guests began arriving an hour later. The music was playing, the ushers were ushering, and the church was filling up.

A hush came over the audience as the groom's mother was ushered down the aisle by his brother ... and cheering almost erupted as Susan was escorted down the aisle by Jon! He had left the game and ran from the dugout with tails in tow to arrive somewhat unkempt, but in time to offer his arm to his mother. Heather actually radiated, the audience beamed, and mother was crying. Walking Heather down the aisle on my arm was even better and, although she told me not to cry, I could not help but shed a few.

The End: The flowers in the reception area were outstanding. Everyone commented on the number and colors. The reception was wonderful, regardless of the puddles in the tent. A few drinks and some food later, puddles were forgotten and the dancing was on. Heather was a little miffed when the police showed up because of complaints of rowdiness from the neighbors, but I took care of it. Police have gardens, too.

Wedding tales can sometimes be like fishing tales - getting bigger with the telling. However, fathers and daughters share a special unexplainable bond that all comes together at a wedding. The good times, the teenage years, the special moments all merge as one bright happy light and such events put time in perspective.

When all is said and done, the crises become good stories, and expense simply becomes one more bill. And when each check is written, Susan and I reminisce fondly over our bread and water. We thank the flower growers, the flower arrangers, and our friends in the horticulture community who shared our enjoyment. Now that the music is over, I have some designs to draw and a couple of gardens to plant.

allan@reenhousegrower.com

About the author: Allan Armitage is a professor, Department of Horticulture, University of Georgia, Athens, GA. You can e-mail him at allan@greenhousegrower.com.