Birthday Bouquet
An arrangement of dreamy, spring-inspired delights.
Spring is spilling open—petals unfurling, the air softening, light stretching further into the evening. Sunlit narcissuses flare against the last chill, pansies brighten garden beds with their watercolor faces, the honeyed scent of lilacs trails through the air. And today, it’s my birthday. I don’t usually share that, but this year, I wanted to mark it the way I know best—by arranging.
Like flowers gathered into a bouquet, each stem tucked in with intention, I’ve collected a dozen things that are brightening my day—paintings that flicker with the rhythm of shifting seasons, a cake that ripples like rose blossoms, daffodils glowing like lanterns in the dark. A small offering, a handful of colors, shared with the wish that this post makes you feel like being wrapped in flowers caught between spring and a dream. Exactly how I hope to feel today.
Los Angeles has been the backdrop for most of my birthdays, and Michelle Blade’s painting of Echo Park feels like spring there—the light stretching longer, the air warming, the city shaking off winter’s haze. Swan boats drift on a lily-covered pond, caught in the glow of a watercolor sunset, palm trees etched against a sky melting from apricot to violet. The painting captures that quiet moment when the season tilts, balanced between what was and what’s to come.
Larissa Lockshin’s paintings hum with the energy of changing seasons—colors drifting, surfaces flickering between form and atmosphere. In “Til Dawn,” green and periwinkle blooms seem to float, blurred at the edges like petals caught in the wind. It feels like a glimpse of something fleeting—light changing, flowers opening, time slipping just out of reach.
This hanging planter by Susan Alexandra is definitely on my birthday wishlist—a cascade of multicolored beads, like a tiered birthday cake suspended in midair, turning any plant into a celebration. For more floral finds, read my Flower-Inspired Gift Guide.
Molly Greene’s paintings blur the boundary between human and plant, familiar and strange. In "Ruminant," long waves of brown hair part just enough for a green stem to slip through—an image of new growth, fitting for a birthday.
Rana Kim’s arrangement, with its airy composition and gentle, cascading movement, mirrors the way spring unfolds—subtle and full of promise. Calliandra’s feathery pink blooms hang like brushed silk, their filaments catching the light. The greenish-yellow orchids add something unexpected, like sunlight breaking through the clouds.
Like a rose caught in the first light of morning, Rust Cakes’ pastry unfurls in delicate, pearlescent layers. For
’s Keepsake, I wrote a love letter to a rose—but it could just as easily be for this cake, with its rippling folds of ivory and blush, each petal shimmering as if touched by dew.
Sophie Smorczewski’s "Glancing at Narcissus" feels like a memory softened by time—edges blurred, hues dissolving. Like mist rolling in at dawn or petals glistening with rain, it captures the rhythm of the season—the way landscapes shift and flowers bloom, only to fade just as quickly.
Xuebing Du’s "Daffodil" glows like a lantern in the dark—luminous, almost liquid, as if sculpted from light. The birth flower of March, daffodils mark the start of spring, the quiet turn from cold to warmth, from dormancy to bloom.
In Alina Dheere’s "The Thought of the Eternal Return," a column of narcissus stands upright, their bright trumpets stacked like a tower. Her work treats flowers as more than arrangements, drawing from theater and performance to explore how we see and shape nature. Here, the narcissus isn’t just a sign of spring but a transformation—something temporary, made momentarily monumental.
My birthday wish is to step into Wonderland, to walk among flowers too tall to comprehend, their petals casting shadows like trees. This 9.5-foot daffodil sculpture by artist and blacksmith Jeff Fetty feels like a glimpse of that world—oversized and surreal, as if plucked from a storybook and planted in the real world.
The older I get, the more I find myself drawn back to childhood joys, the things that first made me feel like me. I loved Sanrio as a kid (my second birthday party was Hello Kitty-themed), and now I find myself returning to it again. So when I came across
’s post on obscure Sanrio characters, I knew I’d found my match in Pink no Corisu—an iridescent squirrel with the magic power to make flowers bloom. And maybe that’s what growing up really is—finding your way back to yourself.
Happy belated birthday! These finds are stunning, as usual! The burst of pastels and bright colors in the spring make my seasonal allergies easier to deal with 😂
happy birthday 🌸 🌱🎂