when my bouquets didn’t sell: memories, pride, and changing times

Today, I sat on my porch, watching the sun dip behind my backyard garden, arms full of unsold bouquets. It took me back to my childhood, when my mother would gather wildflowers and arrange them in old mason jars, her hands gentle but strong. Back then, neighbors would stop by, swap stories, and leave with a handful of blooms—no money needed, just a smile and a thank you. Now, I try to share my own bouquets at the local market, but it seems folks are drawn to the perfectly packaged supermarket flowers instead. Maybe it’s convenience, or maybe the younger generation just sees things differently. I can’t help but wonder: have we lost something in the rush for uniformity and speed? My garden is shaped by our unpredictable North American seasons—one year, drought; the next, late frosts. These flowers are survivors, just like many of us. But sometimes, community rules and HOA guidelines frown on wild, homegrown beauty, preferring manicured lawns over tangled color. Where’s the room for our traditions? I’m torn between pride in my old-fashioned bouquets and frustration at changing tastes. Is it about aesthetics, or are we forgetting the healing power of nurturing something from seed to bloom? I’d love to hear your stories—do you stick to the old ways, or embrace the new? And how do you handle the tug-of-war between personal expression and community expectations? Tonight, my bouquets didn’t find new homes, but maybe sharing this will spark a conversation. After all, isn’t gardening about more than just flowers? #gardeningmemories #communitydebate #oldvsnew #Gardening