All About Christmas

Christmas Celebration.

Check it out this latte cute Holy Bible, At :Flowers Are Happy .

Christmas music: Jingle Bells

Christmas decoration: Christmas tree, Flowers arrangements,.

Christmas flowers: Poinsettla

The ancient aztecs prized the poinsettia as a symbol of purity. Centuries later, Mexico's early Christians adopted the poinsettia as their prized Christmas Eve flower. The Mexican poinsettia, known as the Christmas Flower in North America,  is used in most Christmas decorations, owing to its bright red color and its blooming season coinciding with the Christmas holiday season.

Christmas rose

One plant called Christmas rose is regarded as a true Christmas flower in certain parts of the world. Christmas rose serissa is also known as the "snow rose" or "winter rose." Originally from tropical regions of Asia, cultivated Serissa often blooms during the winter.

Another plant known as Christmas rose is Helleborus niger.

Christmas wreath

Christmas wreath is the most popular decoration when christmas day is here,you can see 95% house have lovely christmas wreath hang in on the door.

Holly

Holly is the plant most associate with Christmas in many european countries. Holly wreaths are hung on doors, and sprigs of holly used to trim Christmas puddings

Ivy

Like most of the other christmas flowers, ivy leaves symbolize eternity and resurrection.The ivy leaf has been associate with the Egyptian God. Osiris,and the Greco-Roman God, Attis,both of whom were resurrected from the dead

Christmas gift: card, flowers, Christmas cards are illustrated messages of greeting exchanged between friends and family members during the weeks preceding Christmas Day. The traditional greeting reads "wishing you a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year"

Christmas day: Date of celebration of christmas: December 25 

Christmas food:

Traditional cuisine:A special christmas family meal is traditionally an important part of the holiday's celebration, and the food that is served varies greatly from country to country. some regions,such as sicily, have special meals for christmas Eve, when 12 kinds of fish are served,

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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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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We also adhere to large corporate orders with specific needs ,like hotel  lobby florist.

Funeral Flowers 

At a time of loss, it’s easy to become disenchanted. A simple arrangement of flowers can be a welcome reminder of happier days,evoking fond memories that provide comfort and the courage to prevail over grief.

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Flowers Story(contiune)

THE NARCISSUS AND THE TULIP

ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR

The tulips stood up very stiff and tall. They looked neither to the left nor the right, but straight up toward the sky. They lifted their stiff petals a little higher as if shrugging their shoulders. Their stiff stalks would have broken rather than have bent.

The great yellow daffodils stood in a long golden row just across the path from the tulips. They danced and bowed and shook their fluffy heads. They nodded in a very friendly fashion to their cousins, who huddled shyly together in the corner of the garden.

Now the daffodils' cousins were the narcissus blossoms who bloomed in quiet beauty in the garden corner. They were as tall as the yellow daffodils, and more slender.

They wore lovely broad white collars, and their golden hearts were bound with dainty pink or crimson. They seemed not half as proud and stiff as the tulips, nor half as gaudy and gay as the daffodils.

Indeed, the narcissus blossoms paid little heed to the more gaudy flowers. They just bloomed in quiet and peace for those who cared for them.

Phyllis stood in the midst of the garden and listened for the faint flower voices.

"Those are cousins of mine." The daffodil spoke to a scarlet tulip, and she nodded in the direction of the narcissus blossoms.

"Do you mean that the narcissus is a relation of yours?" asked the tulip, still looking skyward.

"Yes, indeed," said the daffodil. "We do not look much alike, to be sure. But our family name is the same."

"Now that you mention it," said the tulip, "I think there is a little resemblance. You both have those long, slender stalks and those grasslike leaves. But you wear yellow while the narcissus dresses in white and gold. What is your family name?"

"Both the narcissus and myself belong to the amaryllis family," said the daffodil, proudly. "My blossoms are larger and more showy, but there are those who like my cousin's dress the better. She is called the poet's narcissus, while I am daffodil narcissus–"

"But we children have a dearer name for you," Phyllis interrupted. "We call you little daffy-down-dilly."

The daffodil shook all her many skirts out proudly in the sunshine. Then she bowed three times until her head fairly touched the ground. The tulips still stared stiffly at the sky.

"We belong to the lily family," said one tulip, after a pause. "We wear gorgeous dresses and hold our heads proudly because Mother Nature bade us do so.

"We are dear friends of those wonderful creatures, the bees. The butterflies, too, sometimes visit us."

"I think," said Phyllis, shyly, "that the butterflies must be your cousins, or, at least, you must get your dresses from the same loom."

The tulips could not bow, but one less stiff than the others actually shook so hard with laughter that a section of its dress fell off.

"What a dear little girl," said the quiet poet's narcissus from the corner. "I am glad that we live in her garden."

It was Phyllis's turn to bow and run into the house for tea.

DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY

Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!    She slept with her head on a rose,When a sly moth-miller kissed her,    And left some dust on her nose. Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!     She woke when the clock struck ten, And hurried away to the fairy queen's ball,     Down in the shadowy glen. Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!     Right dainty was she, and fair, In her bodice of yellow satin,     And petticoat green and rare. But to look in her dew-drop mirror,     She quite forgot when she rose, And into the queen's high presence     Tripped with a spot on her nose. Then the little knight who loved her–     O, he wished that he were dead: And the queen's maid began to titter,     And tossed her saucy head. And up from her throne so stately,     The wee queen rose in her power, Just waved her light wand o'er her,     And she changed into a flower. Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!     Now in silver spring-time hours, She wakes in the sunny meadows,     She lives with other flowers. Her beautiful yellow bodice,     With green skirts wears she still; And the children seek and love her,     But they call her daffodil.

Flowers shop in Austin TX

Flowers shop in Austin TX

Flowers Are Happy Florist is your Austin florist, and the newest  of the Austin flower shops.
When you are looking for flower delivery in Austin, we hope your search ends with us.
We are family owned we are grateful you find us .
With over 10 years of floral design expirience our first shop was built in Beijing,China 2006 as happy results floral design,.

Now relocating to Austin (Texas)

we are hope we can serve you better . In addition to being an Austin florist, we deliver flowers every day in Pflugerville,
Round Rock, Cedar Park, Lakeway & Leander Texas.

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FLOWER STORIES(continue)

ALL ABOUT THE SNOWDROP

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SUGGESTIONS FOR FIELD LESSONS

Belongs to amaryllis family.

Blossoms in early spring.

Common in gardens–grows from bulb.

Flowers generally on an umbrel–at other times single–in colour they are pure white, with drooping nodding heads. No cups for flower–three of the petals are longer than the other three. These are notched and lap over the shorter ones. Three cells to pod.

Leaves long, slender, grass-like.

THE
NARCISSUS AND THE TULIP

THE NARCISSUS AND THE TULIP

ALL IN A GARDEN FAIR

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The tulips stood up very stiff and tall. They looked neither to the left nor the right, but straight up toward the sky. They lifted their stiff petals a little higher as if shrugging their shoulders. Their stiff stalks would have broken rather than have bent.

The great yellow daffodils stood in a long golden row just across the path from the tulips. They danced and bowed and shook their fluffy heads. They nodded in a very friendly fashion to their cousins, who huddled shyly together in the corner of the garden.

Now the daffodils' cousins were the narcissus blossoms who bloomed in quiet beauty in the garden corner. They were as tall as the yellow daffodils, and more slender.

They wore lovely broad white collars, and their golden hearts were bound with dainty pink or crimson. They seemed not half as proud and stiff as the tulips, nor half as gaudy and gay as the daffodils.

Indeed, the narcissus blossoms paid little heed to the more gaudy flowers. They just bloomed in quiet and peace for those who cared for them.

Phyllis stood in the midst of the garden and listened for the faint flower voices.

"Those are cousins of mine." The daffodil spoke to a scarlet tulip, and she nodded in the direction of the narcissus blossoms.

"Do you mean that the narcissus is a relation of yours?" asked the tulip, still looking skyward.

"Yes, indeed," said the daffodil. "We do not look much alike, to be sure. But our family name is the same."

"Now that you mention it," said the tulip, "I think there is a little resemblance. You both have those long, slender stalks and those grasslike leaves. But you wear yellow while the narcissus dresses in white and gold. What is your family name?"

"Both the narcissus and myself belong to the amaryllis family," said the daffodil, proudly. "My blossoms are larger and more showy, but there are those who like my cousin's dress the better. She is called the poet's narcissus, while I am daffodil narcissus–"

"But we children have a dearer name for you," Phyllis interrupted. "We call you little daffy-down-dilly."

The daffodil shook all her many skirts out proudly in the sunshine. Then she bowed three times until her head fairly touched the ground. The tulips still stared stiffly at the sky.

"We belong to the lily family," said one tulip, after a pause. "We wear gorgeous dresses and hold our heads proudly because Mother Nature bade us do so.

"We are dear friends of those wonderful creatures, the bees. The butterflies, too, sometimes visit us."

"I think," said Phyllis, shyly, "that the butterflies must be your cousins, or, at least, you must get your dresses from the same loom."

The tulips could not bow, but one less stiff than the others actually shook so hard with laughter that a section of its dress fell off.

"What a dear little girl," said the quiet poet's narcissus from the corner. "I am glad that we live in her garden."

It was Phyllis's turn to bow and run into the house for tea.

DAFFY-DOWN-DILLY

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Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!     She slept with her head on a rose, When a sly moth-miller kissed her,     And left some dust on her nose. Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!     She woke when the clock struck ten, And hurried away to the fairy queen's ball,     Down in the shadowy glen. Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!     Right dainty was she, and fair, In her bodice of yellow satin,     And petticoat green and rare. But to look in her dew-drop mirror,     She quite forgot when she rose, And into the queen's high presence     Tripped with a spot on her nose. Then the little knight who loved her–     O, he wished that he were dead: And the queen's maid began to titter,     And tossed her saucy head. And up from her throne so stately,     The wee queen rose in her power, Just waved her light wand o'er her,     And she changed into a flower. Poor little Daffy-down-dilly!     Now in silver spring-time hours, She wakes in the sunny meadows,     She lives with other flowers. Her beautiful yellow bodice,     With green skirts wears she still; And the children seek and love her,     But they call her daffodil.

FLOWER STORIES

THE SNOWDROP

IN THE SPRING-TIME GARDEN

"Oh-ooo!"

It was a most delighted little cry. In fact, Phyllis was a most delighted little girl. Right here in her own garden was the first spring blossom. Phyllis's bright brown eyes shone eagerly, and her brown gold curls blew wildly as she rushed to the door to tell the family.

"It was my secret!" cried the little girl, dancing first on one foot and then on the other. "I've known for whole days that it was coming!"

"What is it?" cried Jack. "When did it arrive? Who brought it? What is it?"

"I think the sunshine brought it," said Phyllis. "I think that warm rain yesterday helped bring it. It is a little snowdrop. Come and see how lovely it is! How it hangs its pretty nodding head and how it lets the wind rock it!"

After the family had admired the little messenger of spring and gone back into the house, Phyllis still lingered.

"You are very lovely," said Phyllis, stooping lower over the little cluster of blossoms.

"I am so glad you have come. You see, when I put those dry-looking bulbs in the ground last fall, it seemed hard to believe that anything so dainty and delicate and sweet as you could come from them."

The snowdrop nodded sweetly at Phyllis's words of praise.

"I always come with the earliest spring sunshine," said the snowdrop.

"I wish I knew all about you," said the little girl, wistfully. "The birds and the bees have told me their stories. I should so love to know about the blossoms which come every summer to make me happy."

"I am a very simple flower," said the snowdrop, "but I have lived in the world for countless summers. If you like, I will tell you what I can of myself."

Phyllis drew closer to the little plant and softly touched it with her finger-tips.

"Do tell me," she said.

"I am one of the blossoms of spring," said the snowdrop. "I come to tell you that the long winter is over; that the summer will soon be here.

"I usually bear my blossoms in an umbel, though there is sometimes but a single blossom on a stalk."

"What is an umbel?" Phyllis wondered.

"An umbel, Phyllis, is a number of blossoms starting from a common centre on a single stalk."

"Your petals are not all the same size," said Phyllis. "I notice that though you really have six petals, the three outer ones are large and lap over the smaller inner petals. The outer petals are notched. How snowy white they are, and what a tender green are your grasslike leaves."

But the snowdrop only nodded its bowed head, and said not another word.

THE SEED

A wonderful thing is a seed;     The one thing deathless for ever; For ever old and for ever new; Utterly faithful and utterly true–     Fickle and faithless never. Plant lilies, and lilies will bloom;     Plant roses, and roses will grow; Plant hate, and hate to life will spring; Plant love, and love to you will bring     The fruit of the seed you sow.