Weddings

Most of the weddings I do are small and local, and the flowers come to less than couples are braced for: a bridal bunch, a few smaller ones, buttonholes and jars down the table, all cut from the field that week.

A loose bridal bunch of roses, scabious, ferns, and greenery lying on a white kitchen table beside secateurs. — A floral arrangement on the kitchen table, the morning of.

Rows of cutting flowers in a field at dawn with dew on the leaves, a Devon hedge and a grey sky behind — The borrowed field, before the shop opens.

Shaped by what's growing

I can't promise a particular flower months ahead, but I can promise the best of whatever week you marry in.

Wedding flowers here come out of the same field and the same buckets as everything else in the shop. Marry in May and it will be tulips, ranunculus and blossom from the hedge. Marry in September and it will be dahlias and the last of the sweet peas.

That is what keeps them local, and what makes them yours. If there is one flower you can't do without, tell me the date and I'll say honestly whether it will be in the field that month.

This week, for instance Friday 2 October

Dahlias, the last of the cosmos, Michaelmas daisies, rudbeckia, scabious, amaranthus, rosehips from the hedge, and sedum going over.

See what's in the shop now

A gentle guide to cost

Where the money goes.

Small weddings are most of what I do. These are the pieces people usually ask for, and how each one sits in the budget, so nothing comes as a surprise.

A bridal bunch

The most of the week's best, loosely tied. It sets the tone and the largest part of the budget.
Bridesmaids' bunches

Smaller versions of the same, and a good deal less each.
Buttonholes

A few stems and string. The least expensive thing I make.
Jars for the tables

Costed by the jar, so even a long table stays a modest line.
Something for the ceremony

The piece that grows or shrinks most with the room. A jug on a table is often all it needs.

Buttonholes and one bunch is a wedding order I'm glad to take. Tell me the date and roughly what you'd like to spend, and I'll come back with a figure for the whole of it in plain pounds before you've committed to anything.

A single buttonhole of scabious and a seed head tied with brown string, lying on bare white wood — One buttonhole, tied with string.

What to tell us

Five things, and the first message is written.

You don't need a mood board or a spreadsheet. If your note has these in it, I can reply properly the first time.

The date, or roughly when, so I know what will be in the field.
Where it is. Most of mine are in and around Totnes and Dartington, and I'll say plainly if somewhere is too far for me to do well.
Roughly how many people, and how many tables, if there are tables.
What you love. A colour, a flower, a hedge you walk past, a photograph; anything.
A rough budget. It isn't a test. It tells me whether we're talking about buttonholes and a bunch or the whole room, and I'd rather plan to the number than guess at it.

Two minutes, honestly. The form below is just the same five things with boxes.

Start a conversation

Write to me about your wedding flowers.

I read these myself, between the field and the shop, and I'll write back with a question or two and a first figure in plain pounds. If it's easier to talk, come into the shop on the high street in Totnes and we can do it over the bench.

If you're after flowers for a birthday or for sympathy rather than a wedding, ordering for Friday is over here.