Flowers in the midst of a lush, colourful, garden, might be seen as gloriously excessive, but nothing should get in the way of a great party setting. Even the pineapple, wonkily keeping company with my wine glass, provided an eccentric addition to the jardin.
There is a language, little known,
Lovers claim it as their own.
Its symbols smile upon the land,
Wrought by nature's wondrous hand;
And in their silent beauty speak,
Of life and joy, to those who seek
For Love Divine and sunny hours
In the language of the flowers.
The Language of Flowers, London, 1875