I don't care what you say, I love carnations. I have this really distinct memory from when I was a really little kid, probably seven or eight, and my parents had been at my dad's company Christmas party the night before. My sister and I were fast asleep by the time they got home. When we woke up in the morning, early, as little kids are apt to, we padded downstairs and went straight to the fridge. We found what we knew would be there, a bright red carnation with its stem wrapped in floral tape and a beautiful "pearl" pin stuck through it.
Are you old enough to remember this tradition? At fancy parties and even on airplanes, they would give you a carnation boutonniere.
Our mom had saved her carnation for us girls because she knew we would love it. And we did.
I bought some fuchsia carnations today and put them in my wheat-patterned milk glass bowl.
We'll see how long they last because Trotsky the cat loves flowers, and especially carnations.