Christmas candle flowers

Luxurious two taper candle arrangement in gorgeous red and gold tones featuring red roses, red spray roses, red candles, ample gold ribbon and golden ornamental balls set among assorted seasonal greenery.Same day flower delivery across Austin.

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Every day flowers-Sunflowers

Flowers names: Sunflower

Description: These large field-grown flowers have 2- to 8-inch diameters. Short petals surround a large disc. Petal colors are pale or golden yellow, orange, red or bronze; discs are brown, black, or green. Thick stems support single- and double-flower varieties.

Care tip: Keep sunflowers hydrated to help stems support heavy head weight. Place sunflowers in tall containers to provide adequate support for their height.

You can found sunflowers most time in Austin,TX. FAH florist as a local flowers shop ,we alway prepare  quality sunflowers for you.

Ask your FAH about Sunflowers

Flower Stories(Tulips)

A TULIP STORY

In the sweet long ago, there lived a lovely old lady in the midst of a most beautiful garden.

The old lady was quiet and gentle, and the flowers seemed to know her and grow for her as for no one else.

They sprang up beside every path.

In the earliest spring-time her tulips lifted up their stately heads and bowed as she passed among them.

The sweet old lady watered the flower-beds and pulled weeds from among the plants, and loosened the earth about their feet that they might grow taller and blossom more beautifully.

One evening after sunset, the old lady sat quietly in her garden. She watched the tulips as they rocked gently back and forth.

She heard faint, sweet whisperings among the flowers and amid the long grasses.

"They sound like the whisperings of the fairies," said the sweet old lady to herself.

"Indeed," she went on, softly, "I have often heard that the fairies dance in the dell below. Why, then, should they not sometimes wander into my garden?"

"Why not, indeed?" laughed the faintest fairy voice right in the sweet old lady's ear.

Looking up, she saw the most wonderful little creature in soft, fluttering robes of shaded green. Her red-gold hair floated in a cloud over her shoulders. Her milk-white fairy feet peeped from beneath the shimmering skirts.

But most wonderful of all, the little creature bore in her arms a baby! It was the tiniest little pixie baby, wrapped so completely in its dainty green blankets that only a wee tip of its pink nose could be seen.

"I am the Queen of the Fairies," said the tiny mother, as she gently rocked her baby to and fro. "It is but right that I should let you know that we come often to your beautiful garden."

The sweet old lady looked at the Queen of the Fairies and smiled.

"I am truly glad that you find my garden a fit place for fairies," she said. "I have often been told that you danced in the dell. I have sometimes even fancied that I heard the faint, sweet tinkling of fairy music in my garden. But never before have I been sure that you really came."

"Do you know," said the fairy, softly, for the fairy baby stirred in her arms, "do you know that it is here we come to sing our babies to sleep?"

"Then I did hear fairy music?"

"You heard the cradle-songs of the fairies, and sometimes you heard the cooing laugh of the fairy babies before they fell asleep. Sometimes you heard the soft swish of fairy dresses as we softly slid away to dance in the dell."

"And you left your babies sleeping in my garden!" said the sweet old lady, wonderingly.

"Ah," laughed the Queen of the Fairies, "where else would they have been so safe? Your tulips kept our secret well.

"They never told you that it was fairy nurses who rocked their stems so gently in the moonlight and the starlight. You thought it was the wind that swung their tall stalks.

"You did not know that in the morning each tulip held her head so proudly because all night long a fairy baby had been cradled in her heart.

"When you saw our babies' silver drinking cups which the nurses hung in the sun to dry, you called them dewdrops which sparkled in the sunlight."

"No," said the sweet old lady, "I did not know all those things. Neither did I know why my tulips grew so tall and fragrant and beautiful. But now I see it all, for fragrant and dainty and sweet must be the cradles of the babies of the fairies."

The Queen of the Fairies laid her finger to her lips with a low "Sh-h," and, looking down, the sweet old lady saw that the fairy baby was fast asleep.

The tiny mother seemed to blow across the old garden to the tallest golden tulip of them all. Then, softly singing, she laid her precious little one in the stately cup which rocked every so gently in the moonlight.

"I must be off to the dell," said she, a moment later. "You will see that no harm befalls the cradles of our babies?"

"Yes, yes," cried the old lady, eagerly. "So long as I live I shall watch over my garden with care. I will not allow one blossom to be broken from its stem."

The Fairy Queen thanked her, and the old lady was left in the garden with the fairy babies and the fairy nurses who rocked the fairy cradles.

But look as she might, the spell being broken, the sweet old lady could see nothing but her own beautiful tulips bending and bowing the moonlight.

For many years the sweet old lady kept her garden. For many years she heard the soft sighs of the fairy babies and the whispering songs of the fairy mothers. For many years she watched the fairy cradles as the fairy nurses rocked them in the soft, mellow moonlight.

Then at length the sweet old lady died and was buried in the little churchyard. The blossoms of her garden drooped on their stalks, withered, and died.

One day the old lady's son came to the spot. He was a coarse, rough fellow, and he did not love nor understand flowers.

"Flowers are but nonsense!" said he. "I shall plant parsnips in this garden. They will be good to eat!"

Then it was that the fairy mothers drew the fairy babies closer in their arms and left the garden for ever.

"He cares for nothing but eating," said the fairies, as they danced together in the dell. "But we do not forget the sweet old lady. He shall never raise parsnips in her fairy garden."

So the parsnips which the son planted did not grow. As soon as the seeds sprouted the young plants withered and died.

"It is of no use," said the son, when again and again he had failed. "But it is strange how those useless flowers which my mother planted would grow on this same spot."

The fairies, hidden in their soft green robes amid the weeds and the grasses, laughed softly together, then danced away to the churchyard. There they scattered seeds on the grave of the sweet old lady, and they watered the seeds from the drinking-cups of the fairies.

Soon there sprang up in the churchyard flowers as tall, as fragrant, as beautiful as those which had once grown in the garden of the fairies.

And even to this day, if you creep softly to the spot when the moon is full and the clocks are striking twelve, you may see the stately tulip cradles bend and sway in the moonlight. Even to this day, if you listen, scarcely breathing, you may hear the soft sighs of the fairy babies as they stir in their tulip cradles, and, listening still, you may hear the soft whispering songs of the fairy mothers as they croon soft fairy music over their darlings, on their return from their dance in the dell.

TO DAFFODILS

Fair daffodils! we weep to see   You haste away so soon; As yet the early-rising sun   Has not attained his noon:     Stay, stay   Until the hastening day     Has run   But to the evensong; And, having prayed together, we   Will go with you along. We have short time to stay as you,   We have as short a spring; As quick a growth to meet decay,   As you, or anything:     We die, As your hours do; and dry     Away Like to the summer's rain, Or as the pearls of morning dew,   Ne'er to be found again. –Robert Herrick

Flowers Story(contiune)

NARCISSUS

Once, in a far-away country, there lived a handsome youth whose name was Narcissus. He was a very beautiful young man. His hair was as yellow as the flax stalks when they are ripe. His eyes were as blue as the flax flowers when they bloom. His face was as pink and as white as the clouds in a morning sky.

But Narcissus sat beside a stream and wept. He looked neither to the right nor to the left. His tears flowed fast, and his heavy sobs were the only sound to be heard in the wood.

Then there came roaming by the brook side a maiden. She was as beautiful as the cool shadows of the woodland. She was as gentle as the spring breezes among the grasses. She spoke to Narcissus

"I am Echo, the maid of the hills and the wood," said the maiden. "Long have I watched you as you mourned. Often have I called and you did not heed.

"I know the cause of your grief, Narcissus. I have heard how you once had a lovely twin sister. She was the very image of yourself.

"I have heard how your lovely twin sister has now crossed the river of Death. Now you mourn day after day and will not be comforted.

"Look up, Narcissus, I pray you! Your tears cannot bring your sister again to you. Look up, and I, Echo, will comfort you!"

Now the voice of Echo was soft and sweet, and her words were kind, but Narcissus did not look up. He bent farther over the stream which flowed so slowly just there.

As he glanced down into the water, Narcissus started in surprise. He thought he saw his sister looking up into his eyes from the quiet depth of the water. Again and again did Echo call, but Narcissus no longer even heard her voice.

Still Narcissus gazed at his own reflection in the water, thinking that he looked into the eyes of his lost sister.

Day after day he sat there gazing, and sorrowing that he could not reach her. The face in the water looked sad, and Narcissus would fain have comforted his sister.

Not for one moment would he leave the brook side. Not for one instant would he heed the sad, sweet pleadings of Echo.

Thus, sorrowing for his lost twin sister, Narcissus died. Then the voice of Echo, the beautiful, became softer and sadder. Her form became more and more slender until at last she could no longer be seen, though her voice might still be heard.

Then one day there sprang up by the brook side a slender, beautiful flower, as white as the cheeks of the maiden, as yellow as the hair of the youth.

Its blossoms bent over the water, and their reflections swam beneath. And the drooping willows, which hung over the stream, looked down at the strange new blossom, and touched leaves and whispered: "It is Narcissus. It is the youth Narcissus."

And the soft, sighing voice of the formless maiden, Echo, replied, "Narcissus!"

GRANDMOTHER'S GARDEN

Stately and prim grew the hollyhocks tall, In grandmother's garden against the wall; Fairest of flower-duennas were they, Keeping good watch through the long summer day. Close by the was the sunshiny corner, where The foxgloves swayed in the balmy air, And nodded across to the larkspurs blue, And the pleasant nook where the columbines grew. There were cinnamon-roses, and, low at their feet, The shadowy cluster of day-lilies sweet, And mignonette modest, and pensive heart's-ease, And boy's love, and candytuft, sweet in the breeze. And, first every morn by the sun to be kissed, Grew, all in a tangle, fair love-in-a-mist, With bachelor's-buttons, and sweet williams gay, And spice pinks for neighbours just over the way; There were sweet peas coquettish, most festive of flowers, And four-o'clocks sturdy to mark off the hours, And frail morning-glories that laughed in the light At the phlox and verbenas, pink, purple, and white. Ah! the days were so bright, and so sweet was the air, And in grandmother's garden all life looked so fair! –Dorothy Grey.

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