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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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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Flowers Are Happy online flowers shop,have 100% satisfaction guarantee. We offer same day flower delivery throughout Austin TX.

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.

Demonstrating professionalism and sensitivity,our florists can help you choose a suitable triable from our wide selection of products. From refined elegance to gentle simplicity,dignity takes precedence,and our arrangements are tastefully organized with freshly cut blooms of the highest quality.

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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.

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(Continue)

HOW THE SNOWDROP CAME

The whole earth was bare and desolate. The trees were bare, and the grasses were broken and brown. The snow fell fitfully.

Adam and Eve sat outside the Garden of Eden and remembered the beautiful green of the leaves and grasses, and the gorgeous colours of the flowers.

Then Eve shivered and sobbed softly to herself, for the earth seemed big and empty. All had once been lovely.

Then an angel in heaven looked down and saw Eve weeping. And the angel came down to comfort her.

As the angel spake to Eve a snowflake fell on her hair. The angel took it in his hand. "Look, Eve," said the angel, "This little flake of snow shall change into a flower for you. It shall bud and bring forth blossoms for you!"

As he spoke, the angel placed the snowflake on the ground at the feet of Eve. As it touched the earth it sprang up a beautiful flower of purest white.

And Eve, looking down, saw the blossom, and dried her tears and smiled in joy.

"Take heart, dear Eve," said the angel. "Be hopeful and despair not. Let this little snowdrop be a sign to you that the summer and the sunshine will come again."

And about the feet of Eve there sprang up through the snow numberless little white-cupped blossoms. Thus, the legend tells us, the snowdrop came to earth.

CALLING THEM UP

"Shall I go and call them up,–       Snowdrop, daisy, buttercup?" Lisped the rain. "They've had a pleasant winter's nap."       Lightly to their doors it crept,       Listened, while they soundly slept; Gently woke them with its rap-a-tap-a-tap! Quickly woke them with its rap-a-tap-a-tap!       Soon their windows opened wide,–       Everything astir inside; Shining heads came peeping out, in frill and cap;       "It was kind of you, dear rain,"       Laughed they all, "to come again. We were waiting for your rap-a-tap-a-tap! Only waiting for your rap-a-tap-a-tap!"

TO THE SNOWDROP

Pretty firstling of the year!   Herald of the host of flowers! Hast thou left thy cavern drear,   In the hope of summer hours?   Back unto thy earthen bowers! Back to thy warm world below,   Till the strength of sun and showers Quell the now relentless snow! Art still here? Alive? And blithe?   Though the stormy Night hath fled, And the Frost hath passed his scythe   O'er thy small, unsheltered head?   Ah!–some lie amidst the dead, (Many a giant, stubborn tree,–   Many a plant, its spirit shed), That were better nursed than thee! What hath saved thee? Thou wast not   'Gainst the arrowy winter furred,– Armed in scale,–but all forgot   When the frozen winds were stirred.   Nature, who doth clothe the bird, Should have hid thee in the earth,   Till the cuckoo's song was heard, And the Spring let loose her mirth. Nature,–deep and mystic word!   Mighty mother, still unknown! Thou didst sure the snowdrop gird   With an armour all thine own!   Thou, who sent'st it forth alone To the cold and sullen season,   (Like a though at random thrown), Sent it thus for some grave reason! If 'twere but to pierce the mind   With a single, gentle thought, Who shall deem thee harsh or blind,   Who that thou hast vainly wrought?   Hoard the gentle virtue caught From the snowdrop,–reader wise!   Good is good, wherever taught, On the ground or in the skies! –Barry Cornwall.