When Daniel and I were younger I used to hate it if he brought me flowers. They died so quickly and then I had nothing to remember them by. When our first child, Danya, was born, Daniel remembered and brought me silk flowers. They were beautiful and I kept them for years.
As I got older I developed allergies to flowers with lots of pollen. It got to the point that I had to be careful where I walked in a grocery store, in order to avoid the flower department. The only flowers that consistently were safe for me to be around were roses. When we lived in Owasso, Oklahoma our house had rose bushes in the back yard. I first began to enjoy them there.
When I was a little girl I remember lots of years when it would be my parents' dating anniversary (they didn't marry until I was in my late 20s). My dad would usually forget until just before he walked in the front door. Then he'd stop and cut some roses off my mom's rose bushes in the front yard with his pocket knife. I can't imagine why, after the first time, he ever did it again. She hated them. It symbolized to her the fact that he didn't care enough to think about a gift ahead of time or to take the time to get her something special.
Daniel, however, has found my weak spot. Not only does he get roses in unique color combinations that spark my interest (this year the pink ones called to him) but he includes a card. He's figured out that a handwritten note, no matter how simple, as long as it's heart felt, melts me every time. He could tie a love note to a pencil and I'd be thrilled. I save them all. Some guys are really bad at gift giving. Maybe Daniel should tell my dad the secret of love notes?