BLACK WHITE FLOWER PRINT

BLACK WHITE FLOWER PRINT. ORDER FLOWERS DELIVERED

HOW TO PRESS FRESH FLOWERS. PRESS FRESH FLOWERS


HOW TO PRESS FRESH FLOWERS. PINK ORCHID FLORIST. DESIGN WORKS FLOWERS.



How To Press Fresh Flowers





how to press fresh flowers
















how to press fresh flowers - Sensational Dried




Sensational Dried Flowers: Arrangements So Beautiful They Look Fresh


Sensational Dried Flowers: Arrangements So Beautiful They Look Fresh



From an expert floral artist comes the first comprehensive book on drying flowers with silica gel. This lavish volume offers detailed techniques for cutting flowers, setting up a workspace, accumulating tools, and dealing with problem insects. Complete materials lists and step-by-step instructions guide readers through sensational design projects, including:
-Essence of Spring Wall Hanging
-Garden-Variety Ginger Jar
-Magnolia Leaf Wreath
-Christmas Centerpiece
-Traditional Twig Wreath
-Primary Colors Topiary Display
Bountiful photographs, informative illustrations, and a friendly narrative provide readers with the tools needed to achieve beautiful flower drying success!










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{66.365} Bringing flowers to God




{66.365} Bringing flowers to God





Every time a good child dies, an angel of God comes down to earth. He takes the child in his arms, spreads out his great white wings, and flies with it all over the places the child loved on earth. The angel plucks a large handful of flowers, and they carry it with them up to God, where the flowers bloom more brightly than they ever did on earth. And God presses all the flowers to His bosom, but the flower that He loves the best of all He kisses. And then that flower receives a voice, and can join in the glorious everlasting hymn of praise.

You see, all this one of God's angels said as he was carrying a dead child to Heaven, and the child heard it as if in a dream. As they passed over the places where the child used to play, they came through gardens with lovely flowers. "Which flowers shall we take with us to plant in Heaven?" asked the angel.

And there stood a slender beautiful rosebush. A wicked hand had broken the stem, and the branches with their large, half-opened blossoms hung down withering.

"That poor bush!" cried the child. "Let's take it so that it may bloom again up there in God's garden."

So the angel plucked it, then kissed the child for its tender thought, and the little child half opened his eyes. They took others of the rich flowers, and even some of the despised marigolds and wild pansies.

"Now we have enough flowers," said the child, and the angel nodded. But they did not yet fly upward to God.

It was night, and it was very quiet. They remained in the great city and hovered over one of the narrowest streets, which was cluttered with straw, ashes, and refuse of all kinds. It was just after moving day, and broken plates, rags, old hats, and bits of plaster, all things that didn't look so well, lay scattered in the street.

In the rubbish the angel pointed to the pieces of a broken flowerpot and to a lump of earth which had fallen out of it. It was held together by the roots of a large withered field flower. No one could have had any more use for it, hence it had been thrown out in the street.

"We shall take that with us," said the angel. "As we fly onward, I will tell you about it." And as they flew the angel told the story.

"Down in that narrow alley, in a dark cellar, there once lived a poor sick boy who had been bedridden since childhood. The most he could ever do, when he was feeling his best, was hobble once or twice across the little room on crutches. For only a few days in midsummer the sunbeams could steal into his cellar for about half an hour or so. Then the little boy could warm himself and see the red blood in his thin, almost transparent fingers as he held them before his face. Then people would say, the boy has been out in the sunshine today.

"All he knew of the forests in the fresh breath of spring was when the neighbor's son would bring him home the first beech branch. He would hold this up over his head, and pretend he was sitting in the beech woods where the sun was shining and the birds were singing.

"One spring day the neighbor's boy brought him also some field flowers, and by chance one of them had a root to it! So it was planted in a flowerpot and placed in the window beside the little boy's bed. And tended by a loving hand, it grew, put out new shoots, and bore lovely flowers each year. It was a beautiful garden to the little sick boy-his one treasure on earth. He watered it and tended it and saw that it received every sunbeam, down to the very last that managed to struggle through the dingy cellar window.

"The flower wove itself into his dreams; for him it flowered; it spread its fragrance, and cheered his eyes, and toward it he turned his face for a last look when his Heavenly Father called him.

"He has been with God now for a year, and for a year the flower stood withered and forgotten in the window until on moving day it was thrown out on the rubbish heap in the street. That is the flower-the poor withered flower-we have added to our bouquet, for it has given more happiness than the richest flower in the Queen's garden."

The child looked up at the angel who was carrying him. "But how do you know all this?" he asked.

"I know it," said the angel, "because I myself was the sick little boy who hobbled on crutches. I know my own flower very well."

Then the child opened his eyes wide and looked up into the angel's beautiful happy face, and at that moment they found themselves in God's Heaven where there was everlasting joy and happiness. And God pressed the child to His bosom, and he received glorious white wings like the angel's, so they flew together, hand in hand. Then God pressed all the flowers to His heart, but the poor withered field flower He kissed, and it received a voice and joined the choir of the angels who floated about God's throne. Some were near, some farther out in great circles that swept to infinity, but all were supr











52.31... seasonal




52.31... seasonal





The urge doesn't come so much by the calendar as from somewhere deep inside.

A few weeks ago in early July I woke up one day with cherry pie in my head, and- sure enough- later that day I saw the first really good cherries in the market. Now usually I get the craving to make a cherry pie around the 4th of July, but this year the crop seems to have been late. Nothing in the fruit bins looked good around the holiday, so I passed on making that pie until the time was right. I only make it once a year, so the fruit has to be perfect.

Right now the cultivated blueberries are looking pretty tempting, so I'm thinking about blueberry pancakes this weekend. Or maybe I'll finally try that "blueberry bubble" recipe my friend Charlie mentioned last week when he suggested I make some sorta "Kansas State Fair" type of dessert for our last dinner party (I ended up making peach blueberry cobbler). But I won't make the annual batch of blueberry cinnamon jam until the wild blueberries start arriving later this summer from Maine. The flavor of those is much more intense, and precisely what you'll need on that anadama bread toast roundabout the fifth day of being snowbound next January.

In May it was tart rhubarb that was floating to the surface of my consciousness from its hiding place in my heart- - a big favorite of mine that I do NOT adulterate with strawberries like most folks. Come September when the air gets crisp, when you can smell the Macoun and Cortland, the Ida Red and Northern Spy in the air, it's time to pull the deep-dish pie pans out and start peeling. And as long as the peeler's out already, might as well set the apple-and-pear sauce slow-cooking in the big enamel pot. A lot of our cold-weather suppers are infused with a touch of "a few months ago" when a dollop of that's added to the plate. Generally once a winter, on some particularly dark day, I'll make one of my dad's favorite peasant suppers. He sauteed his onions in butter, but I tend to cook mine in olive oil. When they're soft and creamy, and just beginning to think about caramelizing, I put them in the bottom of a pottery baking dish, then cover that with a layer of the lumpy, chunky apple-pear sauce, and then cover that with a generous layer of shredded very very sharp cheddar cheese. There are few meals more pleasure-full than that sweet/savory dish when it's baked slowly until the cheese bubbles and browns.

Now don't be getting the impression that everything i cook and/or crave is rich and sweet. The first fiddleheads call me in the spring the way the odiferous ramps call my sweetheart. June brings the first teeny but intensely flavorful wild strawberries. And July and August are when I really begin to yearn for healthy- generally barely adulterated- vegetables... with a vengeance. It's been a few years since I've had a backyard garden of my own, but luckily I'm blessed with several generous friends with green thumbs who share their annual bounty, and I live in an area where there's a different farmer's market within walking distance five days a week. Today I bought amazingly sweet carrots, Japanese-style eggplants, and dark purple basil from Lunenburg's Parker Farm, and in an hour or so I'll saute them ever so slightly before I have them with couscous. Last Thursday night my friend Debbie picked ruby chard and tender broccoli from her garden for our supper. Sauteed with vidalia onions in garlicky olive oil, and then tossed with pasta and just a touch of mixed cheeses, the sweetness and freshness of those lovingly nurtured vegetables sang on our tongues. Of course I cook with copious vegetables all year long. But they never taste as primal... as essence-ial... as they do harvested locally and within hours of eating, at the peak of their natural season.

The thing I miss most of all from my gardening days is the experience of walking out to your plot and eating the season's first ripe red tomato the second you've picked in off the vine. There is just NOTHING in the world of flavors that matches that taste. Near as good, though, is walking it into the kitchen and sprinkling it with a touch of lemon pepper. Or serving it to friends in a bowl with some fresh basil, traditional feta cheese, scallions, lemon juice, and olive oil. I make that sorta salad all year, but it's only in this part of summer that the fresh tomatoes make it perrrrrrrrrrrrrrfect. I have to admit I eat tomatoes daily- sometimes at two or three meals- when they're in season. I try to memorize the taste, and the texture on my tongue, so that I can recall it when I eat all those wretched impostors the rest of the year.

My mom grew tomatoes in our backyard when I was a kid, and I helped with the weeding a bit, but the first time I grew my own was with my poet friend Stephen behind a beautiful old Victorian we were housemates in almost 25 years ago. We had planted an ambitious 15 plants in our tiny plot, and were beside ourselves wit









how to press fresh flowers








how to press fresh flowers




Artisanal Cocktails: Drinks Inspired by the Seasons from the Bar at Cyrus






A lush, full-color collection of 50 cocktail recipes using organic, sustainable produce, handcrafted ingredients, and local artisanal spirits, from the bar manager at the award-winning Cyrus restaurant.

Inspired by the bounty of Sonoma County's organic farms and local distilleries, Scott Beattie shakes up the cocktail world with his extreme twists on classic bar fare. In ARTISANAL COCKTAILS, Beattie reveals his intense attention to detail and technique with a collection of visually stunning and astonishingly tasty drinks made with top-shelf spirits, fresh-squeezed juices, and just-picked herbs and flowers. In creatively named recipes such as Meyer Beautiful (My, You're Beautiful), Hot Indian Date, and the Grapes of Roth, Beattie combines flavors and aesthetics as meticulously as a chef to produce party-worthy concoctions guests won't soon forget.

"Scott Beattie of Healdsburg's Cyrus restaurant turns cocktail creation into an extreme sport." —Linda Murphy, San Francisco Chronicle

"The most extreme practitioner of this cocktailian focus on fresh and local ingredients is Cyrus's Scott Beattie. The drinks Beattie makes with this bounty are uniformly gorgeous. And Beattie's virgin versions of several drinks are so good that you barely miss the booze." —Gourmet

"This jewel box of a restaurant features an outstanding bar that showcases an innovative seasonal cocktail list overseen by mixologist Scott Beattie—his Manhattan made with vanilla-infused bourbon is a perfect counterpoint to a day of wine tasting." —Bon AppetitReviews & Awards

IACP International Association of Culinary Professionals Cookbook Awards, Wine, Beer & Spirits Category Finalist“Scott Beattie is a virtuoso among drink designers”—Playboy “Artisanal Cocktails turns bartending into a culinary art form”—Men's Journal "Try something new this year from Artisanal Cocktails....More than just a collection of drinks recipes, the book is full of tips and secrets for making syrups and garnishes as well as techniques for decorating the rim of your crystal."—Metropolitan Home "Artisanal Cocktails is shaping up to become the indispensable cookbook of farm-to-glass cocktails."—New York Times "Beattie confers an innovative flair to classic bar fare in this collection of 50 recipes with gorgeous full-color photos...Beattie's recipes will appeal to the adventurous soul who desires to explore a new approach to cocktail making."—Library Journal

"Beattie's book is a giant leap for cocktail-kind...The beauty of this book goes way beyond the petal-porn of its edible-flower garnishes. Working through a few of Beattie's recipes will give you new skills and techniques, so even if you don't have access to pineapple guavas, you will look at the produce section in a fresh light."—Gourmet

“The drinks are stunning to look at….Served with ice and a single, restrained slice of orange, the Painful Punch, as Mr. Beattie calls it, is simple, elegant and delicious....it is one of several excellent recipes in Mr. Beattie's book.”—The Wall Street Journal’s Weekend Journal "Beattie...has created a cocktail book worthy of a chef"—Marin Magazine "Beattie is as adept with the classics as he is with his own modern creations."—San Francisco Magazine










See also:

plant and flower guide

send flowers to hong kong

czech republic flower delivery

crystal flower brooch

flower delivery austin texas

florists la

auto flowering plants



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