There’s a chalky gray cat in the Flower District who is really adorable. He reflects well on the flower store that houses him. Bright and beautiful, like their wares.

The flower district has impacted my life in several ways. It is because of the flower district that I am a caretaker for a needy, moody azalea that looks like it’s on death’s door if it goes 24 hours without water. This azalea was expensive. It was gorgeous for those four weeks of blooming. I remember when I bought it and it was drenched in water. A tip. This thing is thirsty. Still nothing prepared me for the true amount of water it needs to survive. The fact is I’m either going to be at work or at home and I cannot be where the azalea is 24 hours a day, watering it every four hours, as it seems to

Otherwise, I like observing the juxtaposition between the manly types hauling the flowers back and forth, the well-groomed people considering purchasing the flowers and the flowers themselves which are reliably breathtaking. Sometimes there are buckets of petals around and that’s cool too. The air is often moist around the rows of flowers.

Buying flowers/plants there doesn’t seem to be that cost effective. Once I tried to build a bouquet and it cost a ton of money and the person didn’t know what they were doing.

Then of course there is the quaintness/hipness/quirky factor of being able to say you were in the flower district: priceless.