I’ve been moving the plants I’ve been hot-housing at home all winter over to the shop for the last week, but I mostly do it at night so I don’t have to interact with the locals yet. I like it here, but I don’t want a ton of questions. Not until I’m ready to open my shop. And even then, I’m hoping no one asks anything too personal.
Today, though, I need to do the window signage, and I need the sunlight for that job, so I make sure to put the decal in the right place. Which is why I’m driving throughdowntown in the morning, rather than being at home with my plants, or on a video call with one of my cousins.
I just saw them all in person at Yule, and I stayed longer than usual since it’s so freaking cold here in the winter and I love that California sunshine, but I miss my cousins already. They’re like sisters to me, even if they did give me a hard time growing up.
I chuckle, thinking about that while heading down Main Street. I guess that’s what siblings do, isn’t it? Give each other a hard time.
They’ve been there for me when I’ve needed them, though. Especially lately, with my mother’s passing and then again with everything that happened in Denver, when my ex nearly broke me.
“And I’m grateful for that too,” I say aloud. “Incredibly so.”
Even though I never did The Proving, which is a rite of passage in our circle, and I’m essentially the wayward one, the others have reminded me time and again that I’m still family, even if I’m not officially part of the circle. And our family takes care of each other, always. Another thing I’m grateful for.
Heck, Gayle is still making my ex suffer for what he did to me, and I have to admit, it’s nice having a lawyer in the family.
I wouldn’t have known all the things to charge that monster with, but Gayle took care of that. She also took care of making sure the restitution payments get funneled straight to helping other people in similar situations, which was my wish. I don’t want anything to do with my ex or his money, but I also never want another person to feel the way I did when I was with him.
Thank the Goddess that’s all behind me now.
I slow down as I pass the front of my new unit, right next to a homey-looking coffee shop called The Mountain Brew, and I can’t help grinning at the reality of opening my own floral boutique in the heart of this quaint little community.
It’s always been a dream of mine, and now it’s made manifest.
Well, almost. I’m not quite ready to open to the public yet, but that’s not the point.
“Get ready, Pineberry Springs,” I say to my plant-filled car. “There’s a new florist in town.”
I can’t contain my enthusiasm, and as I round the block and enter the staff parking lot, I’m grinning so wide my cheeks hurt. I don’t care though. I’m getting closer to opening my very own shop, and that makes my heart sing. The thought of sharing my flowers and making custom arrangements for the residents of this lovely little mountain town lights me up inside.
I park next to a shiny black Bronco decked out with brush guards and a winch, and those racks people use for camping on top of their car, and I grin even wider. Whoever owns that vehicle must love the outdoors as much as I do. My 4Runner has the same kit.
“This place is perfect for me,” I affirm aloud before climbing out and heading to unlock the greenhouse ahead of the latest batch of arrivals.
After opening things up, I head back to the car. My camellias greet me when I open the tailgate, their shiny green leaves andgorgeous pink, red, and yellow blooms a testament to how happy they are.
Just like me.
“Hello, beautifuls,” I coo, beaming back at them. “Welcome to your new home.”
It takes me several trips to unload all the plants, but the movement feels good, and I love seeing them take up residence in the greenhouse I’ve prepared for them. With every trip here I’ve made over the last few weeks, and every plant placed, the space has felt cozier and more welcoming while becoming more and more vibrant. More mine.
Despite the chilly morning air, I’m a bit sweaty by the time I’ve gotten everyone settled into the greenhouse. It feels good, though. Reminds me I’m alive.
Busy living, as the saying goes.
I grab the last box out of my car and head into the shop—where I do a happy dance at how amazing it looks. Everything, from the sales counter in front to the glass-fronted refrigerators lining the walls and the shop sink and workstation in the back, is exactly where I left it last time. And even though I know it’s silly, especially since I designed it, I still can’t get over how perfect the place is.
A fresh wave of gratitude floods my being as I take in my new boutique, imagining all the people who will visit the space soon. All the people I can help with my gifts.
I honestly can’t wait.
On that note, I head back to the counter and open the box, fishing out the big decal for the front window, excited to put it up.
A sense of Knowing thrums through my system as I turn toward the front of the shop, and I realize there’s a vital ritual I’ve not completed yet today.
And today it feels even more important than usual.
I set the sign down on the counter and head to the back of the shop for the broom. Sweeping is such a simple custom, but a powerful tradition among my family and our ancestors, and as I begin, I thank those who have swept before me. I thank the spirits of the place. The land beneath my feet. Those who have walked in this space before walls were built and tile laid.
