The tales of a florist, stylist, and photographer keepin' it simple in San Francisco, California. This is the home to my stories, inspirations, photography & (when I get really lucky) travels.

amandavidmar.com
It’s been a little while since we last saw each other, Tumblr, but things have been quite alight.  I took a vacation to Hawaii and was able to see the sun shine during business hours.  What a concept, you know!
I forget sometimes that it’s not really all about working.  As I make this slow and somewhat difficult transition back to city life, I’m trying my best to remember that when the work is done, it’s my time.  
You don’t need much to live in Hawaii.  A good pair of hiking boots, a few pairs of shorts, a few tees, and boom. There’s something magical about it.  Until we meet again Big Island. 
It’s been a little while since we last saw each other, Tumblr, but things have been quite alight.  I took a vacation to Hawaii and was able to see the sun shine during business hours.  What a concept, you know!
I forget sometimes that it’s not really all about working.  As I make this slow and somewhat difficult transition back to city life, I’m trying my best to remember that when the work is done, it’s my time.  
You don’t need much to live in Hawaii.  A good pair of hiking boots, a few pairs of shorts, a few tees, and boom. There’s something magical about it.  Until we meet again Big Island. 
It’s been a little while since we last saw each other, Tumblr, but things have been quite alight.  I took a vacation to Hawaii and was able to see the sun shine during business hours.  What a concept, you know!
I forget sometimes that it’s not really all about working.  As I make this slow and somewhat difficult transition back to city life, I’m trying my best to remember that when the work is done, it’s my time.  
You don’t need much to live in Hawaii.  A good pair of hiking boots, a few pairs of shorts, a few tees, and boom. There’s something magical about it.  Until we meet again Big Island. 
It’s been a little while since we last saw each other, Tumblr, but things have been quite alight.  I took a vacation to Hawaii and was able to see the sun shine during business hours.  What a concept, you know!
I forget sometimes that it’s not really all about working.  As I make this slow and somewhat difficult transition back to city life, I’m trying my best to remember that when the work is done, it’s my time.  
You don’t need much to live in Hawaii.  A good pair of hiking boots, a few pairs of shorts, a few tees, and boom. There’s something magical about it.  Until we meet again Big Island. 

It’s been a little while since we last saw each other, Tumblr, but things have been quite alight.  I took a vacation to Hawaii and was able to see the sun shine during business hours.  What a concept, you know!

I forget sometimes that it’s not really all about working.  As I make this slow and somewhat difficult transition back to city life, I’m trying my best to remember that when the work is done, it’s my time.  

You don’t need much to live in Hawaii.  A good pair of hiking boots, a few pairs of shorts, a few tees, and boom. There’s something magical about it.  Until we meet again Big Island. 

Gotta say, Mother’s Day completely threw me off guard in regards to how busy I would be—and all at the last minute. We took today off, which meant that Friday and Saturday were absolutely insane days, but boy oh boy am I glad to be able to sit and enjoy one single day off. 

Second to Valentines Day, this is it.  Moms love flowers.  And rightfully so, since Mother’s Day falls smack dab in the middle of garden rose and peony season.  I suppose this makes me excited to one day have my own children and be showered in the best product mother nature provides.  

I clocked out yesterday, and made sure I made my boss, Claire Marie of Flowers Claire Marie, an arrangement of really lovely peach garden roses.  I called her my Floral Mama which is so true, and she really has taken care of me and taught me a ba-zillion things about flowers and design and life.  I love my Momma Vidmar this year and every year, and am so thankful for all of all of the new Mama’s and Mentors I have met.  That’s what today is all about. 

Flowers, Words, and Photography by Amanda Vidmar 

Here’s the latest piece going on my website—I thought I’d give you all the very first peek at the vibrant pinks and fuchsias that have been inspiring me this weekend.
I’ve had a really nice weekend in the sunshine and at the dance studio. Before flowers, dance was it. Sometimes I feel like I’m going off the deep end, and then I remember that I haven’t danced in a month, so usually I get get back to my normal levels of sanity after a class or two.  I miss it a lot at times but so long as my body allows it, dance and I will always have a relationship where it feels like I’ve never left at all.  Movement is truly a gift. 
Here’s the latest piece going on my website—I thought I’d give you all the very first peek at the vibrant pinks and fuchsias that have been inspiring me this weekend.
I’ve had a really nice weekend in the sunshine and at the dance studio. Before flowers, dance was it. Sometimes I feel like I’m going off the deep end, and then I remember that I haven’t danced in a month, so usually I get get back to my normal levels of sanity after a class or two.  I miss it a lot at times but so long as my body allows it, dance and I will always have a relationship where it feels like I’ve never left at all.  Movement is truly a gift. 
Here’s the latest piece going on my website—I thought I’d give you all the very first peek at the vibrant pinks and fuchsias that have been inspiring me this weekend.
I’ve had a really nice weekend in the sunshine and at the dance studio. Before flowers, dance was it. Sometimes I feel like I’m going off the deep end, and then I remember that I haven’t danced in a month, so usually I get get back to my normal levels of sanity after a class or two.  I miss it a lot at times but so long as my body allows it, dance and I will always have a relationship where it feels like I’ve never left at all.  Movement is truly a gift. 

Here’s the latest piece going on my website—I thought I’d give you all the very first peek at the vibrant pinks and fuchsias that have been inspiring me this weekend.

I’ve had a really nice weekend in the sunshine and at the dance studio. Before flowers, dance was it. Sometimes I feel like I’m going off the deep end, and then I remember that I haven’t danced in a month, so usually I get get back to my normal levels of sanity after a class or two.  I miss it a lot at times but so long as my body allows it, dance and I will always have a relationship where it feels like I’ve never left at all.  Movement is truly a gift. 

As I bid farewell to dogwood, I welcome a whole sixty bunches of white peonies into my life.  One door opens and another door closes.  See, flowers teach you a thing or two about life—or perhaps this is a justification for my very expensive Economics degree…

Either way, I am happy to see peonies’ ruffly little faces.  The local lily of the valley is here and you see florists’ carrying armloads out of the market now.  It’s a pretty magical way to start your day.

Today, I drink coffee and read and sit in bed as long as I can. 

Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.
Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.
Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 
The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 
Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.

Amidst a last minute order in your 11th hour, as your receptionist has stopped answering phones to run down and help clean your tulips and frantically strip roses and mint for you to equally as frantically plug in to your arrangement—the smell of lilac overwhelms you. And if only for a second, you stop to realize why ever the hell you are in the event business.  And then, back to finishing this piece. That is spring as a florist.

Lilac is still forever my favorite, though I may tell you from time to time that it’s something else. If I do, I’m lying, or I’ve just forgotten how many sweet memories I have attached to the scent, since you can never quite recreate the smell of lilac unless it’s actually spring—In the same way that faux gardenia scent never quite smells like gardenias, but somehow falls into an “old lady” perfume category every time.  Dyptique has gotten pretty close (props), but there’s nothing quite like the real deal. 

The flower market mornings have continued, except now I’m realizing that the good stuff is gone by 5, so I’ve done my best to be out of the house, coffee in hand by 4:20am and have somehow succeeded in this mostly every time. The things a florist will do for some gosh darned local lily of the valley.  I think my next plan is to stay up with friends until two in the morning, and then have a field trip to the flower market to really see what’s first available. I’ll let you know how that one goes. 

Flower ranting aside, I find that I’m so hyped after three or…ahem…four cups of coffee in the day, that I’ve mustered the energy after a long day to be in the presence of lovely people and experience San Francisco a bit more. Tonight, though, it’s me and my Aimee Bender book, alone in my apartment.  I think the city is finally growing on me, and I’m growing within it.  It’s a mutual thing.