Petals on the dashboard

We finished something different this morning. Not a bouquet, not a centrepiece, not a wreath. A car.

We dressed it slowly, seat by seat, dashboard by dashboard. White roses and blush roses, ranunculus in the same shades, baby's breath stitching every joint. Loose petals scattered across the cream leather and the floor. A line of warm lights threaded through the flowers, almost like fireflies.

This is the kind of work we love to do quietly: thinking before cutting, letting the flower lead, looking twice before releasing the last petal. It happens once. It lasts the length of a proposal, a drive to the ceremony, a morning. Then it comes apart. But it stays in a photo, in a memory — and now, here.