Due to COVID-19, the past 1.5 years has been a roller-coaster journey for everyone in Singapore – front-line workers, students, businesses and office workers alike.
The main difference for many? Adjusting to a lifestyle where working from home became the norm for office workers. Initially, to many, it was a dream come true where one didn’t have to trudge into the office first thing in the morning. However, is working from home truly the best option when it comes to being productive?
Read on if you’re keen to find out about the main differences between working from office and working from home.
From a time immemorial to our contemporary souls today, flowers have been alluded meanings by ancient traditions and folk cultures. Perhaps back then when people were not quite as preoccupied with work, school and modern-day shenanigans, they could afford the luxury of time to compose mythical narratives and concoct imaginative parables, creating the notion of flower symbolism that we know of today. While some lexical semantics have faded in tandem with history, others have withstood the test of time and continue to be memorialised and perpetuated amongst flower-lovers or anthophiles (a term to describe people who adore flowers, apparently) today.
As far as romanticism is concerned, a significant lot of flowers have been accorded with metaphors for love, affection and adoration. Love can be interpreted in a multitude of ways — love for a partner, love for friends and love for family — which resultantly, opens up a plethora of different flowers symbolising the varying spectrums of love.
It was 11 years ago; 11 years ago when I first gave a condolence flower to a friend. My friend was just 13 years old and she was lying in the coffin while I stood there, not wanting to believe what was before me.
Till this day, I still hold vivid memories of Daisy who passed away back in 2009. I was 13 then, and as a young teenager, my mind just could not comprehend what had just happened. I had pontang (pretended to be sick to miss school) school that day, when about 2.30pm after school hours I received a phone call from a school mate I was never really close to. It was odd. The moment I picked up the call, all I could hear was my friend crying as she struggled to tell me that Daisy had died. “What do you mean Daisy died?”, I asked, simply completely confounded. She just kept repeating, through her tears, that Daisy had died and that I should come to school now. As I lived just opposite the school, I ran as fast as I could and reached pretty soon. It was then that the school had gathered all students in our cohort to announce the death of my dear friend, Daisy. I was extremely shocked, and at the same overwhelmed by this sense of unbearable heaviness. There were so many words unspoken, there were so many regrets that I had.
I grew up in Singapore within the warm embrace of flowers. My grandmother’s name was Rose, and just like the flower, she was beauty and grace. She named our house ‘Rose Ville’, and what a fitting name it was! The garden was filled with flowers and plants of various colours and types, and every day, my grandmother would tend to the garden as she would a child – lovingly and patiently. I remember rolling on the grass and breathing in the scent of the blossoming flowers as my grandmother worked. I remember too the smell of roses scattered on top of her coffin as I said my final goodbyes. In my mind, roses will always be a gentle reminder of her dedication and grace.
Flowers are special creatures. They carry with them the memory of something or someone special. Deeply imprinted in my mind is the image of my mother coming home after a long day of work, clutching a huge bouquet of roses for my grandmother for Mother’s Day. ‘Happy Mother’s Day, Ma. I got this from a florist near me’, she said, somewhat sheepishly. Our family was unused to extravagant displays of affection. ‘Why did you buy this, it will only die!’, my grandmother scolded in Cantonese, but I distinctly remembered her flustered smile and the way her fingers slowly caressed the flowers. As a kid observing this strange proceeding from behind the wall, I was enlightened – ah, Mother’s Day is a time of gifting flowers to your mother! I felt slightly awkward that I had not realised that earlier and crept up the stairs to feign sleep in bed.
We all talk about taking off from work to pursue our dreams but how many of us are actually courageous enough to pursue your dreams as your career? Staying in a safe corporate job might seem stable, but for those who are looking to take a bold step into the unknown and chase your dreams of being a florist – read on to find out what other Singapore florists have done, and how to start turning your dreams of working with flowers into reality?
Every girl remembers her first flower bouquet delivery. Be it a rose or a dried flower bouquet, it’s a special occasion which she will never forget. The sheer joy of holding a bunch of fresh flowers from someone she likes or loves is bound to excite and delight her beyond words.
Having a bouquet of flowers delivered to your school, house or office is a sweet romantic gesture. It could be for your birthday, anniversary or even for no reason at all! It’s one thing to receive a beautifully worded text but another thing to receive a physical bouquet delivery. Every woman might have received flower bouquets at different stages of her life, from her schooling days to her first crush, her first boyfriend or from her family member. Thinking back, I still remember the very first time I received a flower bouquet from someone I cared about…
Flower-giving is one of the oldest practices in the world. Flowers are traditionally considered feminine, and as a young girl, I did not give 2 hoots about them. When I was young, nothing in my room gave clues to it belonging to a 10-year old girl, except if you were to open my wardrobe (my mother chose my clothes). Perhaps being the younger sibling to an older brother influenced my choices. When I was given the chance to pick a color for my room’s walls, I picked oyster grey. I had barbie dolls but I treated them as hair salon customers (they received awful haircuts). I scoffed at the color pink, played soccer with my neighbors, and caught spiders with the boys during recess. The only flowers I bothered about were the little ixoras found in bushes by the roadsides, where my brother and I would rip them off and pull out their yellow tips for their sweet nectar, like giant pollinating bees.
I also grew up in a fairly pragmatic household, where useful gifts (such as money) were favored over “frivolous” items. My childhood was ﬁne, but it did leave an imprint on my life as I grew up and began to experience things as a female person