I went to an accountant. Because, when you have a business, even if you perceive it as a somewhat-imaginary business wherein you get up early and whisper at plants, wherein you fairy-godmother color into people's marrying hands, wherein you fill a truck and empty it, and fill a truck and empty it... if you get paid, you gotta pay the government.
I'm a naive human and I've always been one, and I often learn things the hard way, but more often I narrowly dodge the hard way because of luck or because friends' advice finally sticks. So I saw an accountant. That's the latest news from Flower Scout. He is great. I recommend not being afraid of money, if you can.
No, but there's so much news from Flower Scout. Things are starting to bloom despite the repeated Woodchuck Massacres of Early Summer 2015, bouquets are taking form and moving out, I'm consulting brides about 2016 (so email me if you want to book FS for a wedding, because it seems it's time to start thinking about it), and deep changes are afoot in my sweet little community.
Great friends are moving away. People I love, who've loved me awhile, who've loved this little business and instructed and supported it, are packing up their saddlebags and UHauls and they're waving out their rear-view mirrors and giving me all of their houseplants and things are changing. It's tremendously sad and tremendously encouraging, simultaneously. Because it points to the ever-present reality that all things are constantly in flux :: the same reality we ask flowers to point out to us, whenever we cut them and bring them inside.
I can lean into these friendships and be supported by them, wherever they are, but I can't ask them to stop changing for me, to sit still and be steady for me, or to keep themselves at a few blocks' distance, any more than I can ask the wilting flowers on my worktable to keep being vibrant and full for a few more days.
And these changes are encouraging because they inject a little adventure into my world: my friends are moving to L.A., that desert dream-scape, they're road-tripping across the country and sailing international waters, they're going for PhDs in fascinating esotericisms, they're making incredible music. People are doing stuff. We can do that stuff.
And friends are not money. They do not require accounting. They do not diminish or increase in a way that can be counted or measured - sometimes their value increases with space; sometimes they rise up like a season: like the Queen Anne's Lace suddenly appearing in every alleyway, they fill time and space with surprising perfect sentience. And sometimes they hide awhile, or bloom up somewhere else. It's all okay. I miss them when they're gone; I adore them when they're here; my life is full of them always, even when I'm alone. Ok I'm getting weepy. Hug your friends today.