What's Your Birth Flower? A Month-by-Month Guide

Hi, my name is Siobhan, I own Lily's Florist. Bella originally wrote this article last year but after reading it I felt it need a refresh and some new energy, hope you enjoy. xx

You know, back when Andrew and I ran our florist shop in Kingscliff from 2006 to 2009 (which was also an organic and gift shop), one of the most common questions we'd get was "what flowers should I send for a birthday?" It wasn't just about picking something pretty. People wanted flowers that meant something special for their loved one's birth month. 

After fielding countless calls at the shop, especially after that Yellow Pages ad kicked in and the phone wouldn't stop ringing, I started to really understand how much these flower traditions matter to people. So with that, today, I thought I'd share what each month's birth flower is and what they actually mean based off my personal experiences from both owning a shop back in the day, and fielding 1000's of calls from people for many years.

January Birth Flower - the Mighty Carnation

Carnations might appear like the humble choice for a lot of people, but they've got serious staying power and that is what makes them so endearing, my BFF is a January baby. Carnations have been around for 1000's of years, and there's something, I think in particular, is quite special about them. If you didn't know, the name Dianthus actually comes from Greek mythology, tied to a story about the goddess Diana and her tragic love and let's be honest peeps, we all have a tragic love in our lives at one point in time or another!

What I love about carnations is how each colour tells its own story. Red ones are all about passionate love, white represents pure affection and good luck, while pink shows gratitude and gentle romance. Back in Victorian times (a time my 14 year old wishes she was born into, either than or the 70's as she's quite the groover), striped carnations had this bittersweet meaning of "sorry I can't be with you." That one always stuck with me when customers would ring for long distance relationships, at the time we had the shop FIFO workers seemed to be the most common callers, 2 weeks on and 2 weeks off must have been pretty rough on relationships!

February Birth Flower: Violet

February in Australia means the tail end of summer, everything's crispy and brown, and then someone walks in wanting violets. I remember this one order in 2008, an elderly bloke from Casuarina wanted violets for his wife's 70th birthday. It took our contract florist ages to source them because honestly, who stocks violets in subtropical NSW in February?

The Greeks used violets in funeral wreaths, particularly for women and children. Bit morbid, but there's this underlying meaning about wisdom that transcends death. These days blue violets mean "I'll stick by you," white ones say "let's start fresh," and yellow practically shouts "mate, you're a good friend."

The smell though, that's what gets people. It's not like roses that hit you in the face. Violet scent creeps up on you, sweet but almost powdery, like your nan's handbag. Herbalists used to brew them up for insomnia and anxiety. Whether that actually worked or not, who knows, but there's definitely something calming about them.

March Birth Flower: Daffodil

Nothing says "spring is here" quite like daffodils bursting through the last of winter's frost. Also called narcissus (yes, after that Greek myth about the guy who fell in love with his reflection), these bright yellow beauties are all about new beginnings and happiness.

I remember in 2007, we'd get so many orders for daffodils in March. People just gravitate towards that golden glow after a long summer. They're hardy little things too, pushing through cold soil like it's nothing, which is pretty impressive when you think about it. White narcissus varieties bring hope and innocence to the mix. They're the perfect birthday flower for March babies because they embody that fresh start feeling.

April Birth Flower: Daisy

Here's something that blew my mind when Anna (one of our florists we hired in 2010) told me - daisies aren't actually one flower. See those white petals? Each one's a separate flower. The yellow bit in the middle? That's made up of hundreds of tiny disc flowers. So when you're looking at a daisy, you're actually looking at a whole bouquet pretending to be a single bloom.

We used to get daisy orders for kids' birthdays constantly. Parents loved them because they last forever and you can't kill them. I remember this one April in 2009, a tradie from Pottsville ordered three dozen gerbera daisies for his daughter's 6th birthday party. Bright orange and hot pink ones. When we delivered them to the party, every single kid wanted to take one home. The dad ended up ordering another two dozen the next week.

In the old flower language books, white daisies meant "I'll never tell" - bit suss if you ask me. These days people say they represent innocence, but honestly, I reckon they just remind people of being kids again. Making daisy chains, picking petals going "loves me, loves me not." Red gerberas pack more punch - they're for when you fancy someone but don't want to fork out for roses. Pink ones though, they're what teenage boys order when they're trying to be romantic but don't want to seem too keen.

May Birth Flower: Lily of the Valley

Lily of the valley nearly killed my Mum's, neighbours dog in Taree in about 2008. Seriously. The dog ate some from her garden and ended up at the emergency vet, it was scary, as she had a dog Pippa who could have done the same thing too, but luckily didn't. Every part of the plant is toxic, the leaves, flowers, even the water they've been sitting in. 

The smell though, it's like nothing else, or at least to me anyways. Not sweet like frangipani or heavy like jasmine - which incidentally I do love. Pick a sprig of true lily of the valley and you’ll catch a sharp green snap, like crushed cucumber skins, that melts into a faint honey whisper. Perfume houses throw research budgets at that moment, Chanel No. 5 famously builds it from aldehydes and yet the lab version never quite matches the cold-morning crispness you smell when the bells first open

May in the Northern Hemisphere is all about these popping up through the last of the snow, but here in Australia we had to special order them from Melbourne. Cost a fortune. I remember one order for a 40th birthday - woman in Tweed Heads wanted lily of the valley because her mum used to grow them in England. We charged $85 for a tiny bunch of maybe 20 stems. She didn't even blink.

The Victorian meaning was "return to happiness" which sounds lovely until you realise it usually meant someone had gone through absolute hell first. We'd get orders for these after divorces were finalised, after chemo finished, after court cases ended. There's something about those tiny white bells on their thin green stems that says "I survived this" better than any other flower.

June Birth Flower: Rose

June roses were a nightmare at our shop. Northern Hemisphere wedding season meant every bride wanted roses, but June in Kingscliff is the middle of bloody winter. The roses we could get locally looked sad - tight little buds that would never fully open, petals already browning at the edges.

I'll never forget this one June order in 2008. A fella from Brisbane calls, wants 100 red roses delivered to his girlfriend in Cabarita Beach for her 30th, staying at The Beach Cabarita Resort if I remember right. A hundred, I didn't say that really, but I did think it! Do you know how many buckets that is? We had to ring three different partner florists, our one in partner florist in Banora Point, Murwillumbah and even Tweed Heads. Cost him $400, which back then was insane amount of money, well even now TBH. The girlfriend called us the next day asking if we could take half of them back because her tiny apartment looked like a funeral parlour, to which I said, just enjoy them!

The whole Victorian flower language thing is actually more complicated than people think. Red roses didn't just mean "I love you" - dark red meant unconscious beauty, bright red was respect, deep red was heartfelt regret. Yellow roses meant friendship unless you gave them to your spouse, then they meant you were cheating. Pink roses had about fifteen different meanings depending on the shade. Light pink for sympathy, hot pink for gratitude, dusty pink for "thanks for understanding why I forgot our anniversary."

The Persians had it right though - they just crushed them all up for rose water. At least that way you didn't accidentally tell someone you wanted a divorce when you meant to say happy birthday.

July Birth Flower: Larkspur

Larkspurs, also called delphiniums, are these towering beauties that can grow over six feet tall. The name comes from the Greek word for dolphin, which I always thought was lovely - something about open seas and soaring spirits.

Purple larkspurs mean first love, pink ones hint at fickleness and joy, while white signals happiness. They're perfect for July because they embody that peak summer energy. Just be careful with them though - like many beautiful things, they're toxic if ingested.

August Birth Flower: Gladiolus

The gladiolus gets its name from the Latin word for sword, and you can see why when you look at those tall, dramatic spikes. They symbolise strength of character, honour, and steadfastness - pretty fitting for late summer birthdays.

White glads represent purity, pink ones grace and romance, while red speaks of passion. But you also get these gorgeous autumn transition colours - purples, oranges, yellows. They're like summer's last hurrah before autumn settles in.

September Birth Flower: Aster

Asters literally mean "star" in Greek, and they do look like little starbursts. They come in mostly cool colours - lavenders, purples, whites - that mirror autumn's transition. These flowers are all about wisdom, change, and maturity.

On late autumn walks through Canberra’s community gardens, I still spot asters standing tall and white petals crisp as clean linen, purple heads catching the slanting sun, and the odd pink one cheekily edging toward the path. They flower when most beds look spent, a stubborn little reminder that the growing year hasn’t signed off yet and neither should we.

October Birth Flower: Marigold

When we had transitioned to just online flowers in 2009, I recall Mexican sounding Mum from Ballina rang up wanting marigolds for Dia de Los Muertos, to which I thought, what the heck are you talking about. Lots of them if you can, I want to send them to my Aunty in Coolangatta. Orange ones specifically, the really bright ones that hurt your eyes to look at. We didn't have any as we were now online, but we hoped one of our partner florist did, but my thought was, nobody orders marigolds in Australia. They grow like weeds in everyone's garden, why would you buy them?

As it turns out there's a massive difference between the stringy little things growing next to your letterbox (yeah you know the ones, lol) and proper Mexican marigolds, Tagetes erecta if you want to get technical. The ones for Day of the Dead are huge, like pompoms' dipped in burnt orange paint. The smell is pretty intense too, peppery and sharp, nothing like other flowers. The lovely lady explained that the strong scent helps guide spirits back home.

We ended up ringing around random random partners in SE QLD to see if they could source marigolds. Which we did, but honestly, it was a battle as she wanted hundreds of dollars worth of them, it was worth the mission for sure!

The weird thing about marigolds is they're pest repellent. Gardeners plant them near tomatoes to keep bugs away. Maybe that's why they ended up as death flowers - they literally repel the living world. Orange ones supposedly mean "I'm disgusted with you" in some old flower language book Anna showed me, which seems harsh for such a cheerful looking thing.

November Birth Flower: Chrysanthemum

"Mums" bloom late in the year when most other flowers have given up, which makes them perfect for November birthdays. Their name comes from Greek words meaning "gold flower," and they symbolise friendship, loyalty, and honesty.

Red chrysanthemums convey love, white ones pure intentions, and yellow (despite being popular) traditionally meant neglected love. They're surprisingly hardy for such lush blooms, thriving when others can't - a bit like those determined Scorpios born in November.

December Birth Flower: Poinsettia

Poinsettias in December used to drive me mental. Every single person wanted them, but here's the thing most people don't know and that is that those red "petals" aren't even petals, hard to believe right. They're leaves called bracts which to my husband, who I call Temu Thommo bv the way due to his high level handyman expertise, thought was something you bought to keep a shelf in place. The actual flowers are those tiny yellow things in the middle that everyone ignores.

The Aztecs used the sap for fever medicine and the red bracts to make dye. They called it cuetlaxochitl, which I definitely couldn't pronounce when customers asked. These days everyone just wants the classic red and green for Christmas, though the white ones are stunning - like they've been dusted with snow. Pink poinsettias look like someone's nan's lipstick shade, but they sold well for hospital visits.

Looking back on those years in the flower shop, and later on in the office taking all those calls in our home office in Pottsville, these birth flowers taught me (and our staff) something. People not only wanted flowers but they also wanted meaning in those flowers. They want to say "I remembered your birthday and I bothered to find out what March means." After 800+ florist partners and 16 years of Lily's Florist, that hasn't changed.

If you would like to learn more about our transition from knowing nothing about flowers in 2006 to a Australian wide flower delivery service you can click here.