Where Australia's wettest day was recorded, take the wrap off a bunch first
Wet wrap is the thing I learned to watch for at the bench, one soggy February in Kingscliff, and there is no shortage of wet around Crohamhurst. A gauge there logged 907 millimetres of rain in a single day in February 1893, still the figure quoted as the Australian record. Soaked tissue goes see-through and clings to the petals. A damp bunch left sealed in its plastic grows grey mould (florists call it botrytis), and it shows by morning as brown flecks on the outer petals.
So get the wrap off the minute it arrives, and give it a room with air moving through, never a shut bedroom. A flecked outer petal on a rose just pulls off. The bloom underneath is fine.
The road number, plus which drive and what the house looks like from the gate. Plenty of houses sit well back from the road.
Carport, verandah or the laundry step, if nobody answers. Never the open front step in rain.
So the florist can ring from a shut gate instead of turning round.
The funeral director and the service time, for anything going to Peachester Cemetery.
Thirty seconds in the notes is the difference between a bunch on the kitchen bench and a bunch sitting out in the rain.
Flowers into Crohamhurst tend to go one of three ways: a birthday at a house at the end of a long drive, a graveside on Cemetery Road, or someone recovering, at home or in hospital in Maleny. For a table with no spare vase, our flower arrangements arrive set in their own container.
The birthday is today, and the house is up a drive you have only ever seen on a map. Send the birthday flowers to the house, and put the number, a line about the drive and a dry spot in the notes in case nobody is in. Our best-selling birthday flowers are a safe start if you are guessing at their taste.
I learned why the dry spot matters in February 2008, on a birthday run from our Marine Parade shop to a farmhouse in the hills above Stokers Siding. Rain coming in sideways, nobody home, and no verandah I could see from the car. I stood at the back door for ten minutes choosing between the woodpile and the dog kennel. The dog was in the kennel. The flowers went on the woodpile under a feed bag, with a note, and the lady rang the shop the next morning to say the feed bag was a nice touch. Crohamhurst gets that kind of rain too, so tell the florist where it can stay dry.
Anna's call: a bunch that has waited out in the weather has been out of water a while, so recut the stems at about forty-five degrees before they go in. An angled end cannot sit flat and seal itself against the bottom of the vase.
You have the service details, and you will not make it to the graveside. The burial is at Peachester Cemetery, the old bush cemetery on Cemetery Road inside Crohamhurst itself. There is no staffed office at the gate, so funeral flowers travel with the funeral director: their name and the service time go in the notes. A sheaf from our wreaths and sheaths lies flat on the grave. For the family themselves, sympathy flowers to the house a day or two after the service often mean more, once the visitors thin out. The card can stay short: "Thinking of you all."
Against the bush around that cemetery, white and cream read clearly from the back of a crowd. For most families they are the right call.
They are off their feet, and you are not sure whether they are home yet. For Maleny Soldiers Memorial Hospital on Bean Street, put the ward and their full name in the notes; in our experience hospital flowers go to the ward desk and the nurses take them in. If they are already home, get well flowers go to the house, and a mobile in the notes gives them a minute to get to the door. For the card: "Rest up. Thinking of you."
A boxed arrangement suits both. The box is the vase, the stems sit in wet foam, and nobody on a ward has a spare vase anyway. A squirt of water into the foam from a sports bottle every couple of days keeps it going.
A lot of orders have no heading at all: a new job, a fence finally fixed, a hello after too long. Anna has a view on this one.
Natives. Protea and leucadendron carry tough, leathery bracts that damp air barely touches, so grey mould hardly gets a look in. And when the vase is done, a banksia cone or a leucadendron head dries on a shelf and stays for months.
Or browse by colour, age or gift
Still this side of the cutoff? It can be on Mum's kitchen table in Crohamhurst this afternoon.
Birthday Flowers for Mum, Sent TodayBefore 2pm on a weekday for same-day, which gives the florist the rest of the day to make it and drive it out.
Before 10am on a Saturday, because a florist's Saturday is a shorter working day.
No Sunday delivery, except Mother's Day.
The road number, which drive, a mobile that gets answered and a dry place to leave it. For a hospital, the ward. For a service, the funeral director.
Whoever comes to the door (or the dry spot you named), the ward desk in Maleny, or the funeral director for Cemetery Road. In before 2pm on a weekday, and it reaches Crohamhurst this afternoon.
One of our partner florists close to Crohamhurst makes it that day, writes your card and sends it out on the afternoon run. At a shut gate they will usually ring the mobile in the notes. If anything looks wrong when it lands, send us a photo that day at [email protected] or ring the team on 1300 360 469, 7am to 6pm weekdays and from 10am Saturday.
When you order from a long way off, the quiet afterwards is the hard part. I took the calls in our Kingscliff shop for years, and the thank-you from someone on acreage tended to come days later (cows, fences, a bit of weather), because out there the day does not stop for a text. What taught us to hold the 2pm line was the half-past-three phone call on a Friday, someone hoping. Now anything after it goes on the date you pick at checkout. A bit of a let-down on the day, I know. I would still rather that than flowers made in a rush.
The flowers get their week. The card usually outlasts the wet season.
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