Archives for posts with tag: flowers

When travelling, I love checking out the local markets. Some of my strongest memories include trying to buy lettuce and a tomato from farmer’s market in Bosnia, taking pictures of intense old-lady cheesemongers in Paris, and putting various foods on a stick into my mouth at a night market in Cambodia.

So I was pretty excited to discover that Toronto now hosts a flower market that features local growers, sellers, and stylists. 

DSC00574

Sometimes Torontonians need it spelled out for them.

DSC00579

The flower market is pretty hip.

DSC00580

Getting inspired.

DSC00581

Wild fields and country in the city.

DSC00583

I decided to go for it and bought four bunches (for only $20!)

I loved being able to buy flowers- a wonderful perk of not travelling.

I didn’t quite realise exactly how many flowers I’d bought until I tried to figure out where to put them all. It’s a week later and my tiny apartment is still chocked with bright blooms and I’m happy. I try to remember this kind of feeling- the feeling of being home and able to buy myself flowers to liven up my own space- whenever my feet get itchy and my fingers start googling destinations and seat sales.

DSC00590

I could fit the most stems into my sangria pitcher (in which I have never made sangria). On the dining room table (seen here with butter, sugar, and a brick from the beach at Leslie Spit)

DSC00584

This is my only actual vase. In the kitchen.

DSC00585

In a milk-bottle-looking bottle that was bought with orange juice in it in London in maybe 2008 and never re-used until this day. In the kitchen.

DSC00586

In the entrance in a storage jar.

DSC00589

In the bathroom in a jam jar.

DSC00592

In the living room in a balsamic vinegar bottle.

The next flower market will be on September 13th. See you there!

Advertisements

I arrived in Portland (Oregon) to hot, sunny days. On my first day there, I walked up the twisted forest path to the famous International Rose Test Garden, a garden where they test out new rose varieties, and where roses were sent from Europe to be saved from the bombings during World War I.

If I was a real writer, I would have taken notes (at least the name) on each of the roses I decided to photograph. But hopefully you’ll just enjoy the prettiness.

Billy the Shake gives his stamp of approval.

See? Lots and lots of different roses.

I think this was my favourite- different colours and shapes growing from one branch.

I liked how the petals were all pointy and curled in. I think maybe these flowers were dying.

This reminded me of the fake bouquets they hand you to take your graduation photo- fake dew and all. This was real water.

More pointy petals.

Oooh- backlighting.

Big, fat flowers, crowned by buds.

Up close and personal.

So it turns out that Porland isn’t all about putting birds on things, hipsters, and bikes. It’s also about rose-enthusiasts, people who collect pens (learned this in the gift shop), tourists, and roses. Lots and lots of roses. And that’s why Porland is called “The City of Roses.” Ta-da!