The mid-November days recede into long, chilly nights. Golden leaves spiral down from tree branches and cover the streets with a thin, ephemeral blanket that rots away in the now frequent autumn drizzles. Blagoevgrad is slowly slipping into its winter gray robe.
Nevertheless, a corner of perennial spring bravely endures the windy arrival of the winter. Squeezed on a tiny paved stretch of a street in the town’s heart, seven puny, white booths bulge with flowers. Firm lush green stems stick out of plastic vases, lined directly on the pavement. Petals in a spate of bright colors and intricate forms flutter in the fall breeze.
“The cut flowers can live up to a week,” said Vitka Urumova, a florist since 1991.
Once their beauty falters, the cut flowers quickly land in dumpsters, replaced in the white vases by new fragrant ones, fresh from Urumova’s garden. The flower plants shipped from the Netherlands, however, can thrive in pots on the booth’s shelves for more than a year, before being purchased.
Urumuva was a furniture designer before the severe economic crisis of the 1990s forced her to turn to other sources of income. By growing chrysanthemums, roses and violets in her backyard and selling them in a 2-by-4- meter booth in Blagoevgrad’s center, she not only managed to bring a relative financial stability to her family of three, but also to expand her small business.
Today Urumuva cuts, trims and arranges flowers into opulent, bridal bouquets at least once a week. 100 red roses, bundled in a simple yet staggering bouquet for a wedding proposal, were among Urumuva’s most memorable orders.
“I picked a rose and surrounded it with more and more roses until their number reached 100,” she said. “So, the technical execution of the bouquet was not hard. The emotions and feelings are what matters. The man’s sparkling eyes, when picking up the bouquet, are what made me remember it.”
Since her first prosperous years in the flower business, Urumova have taken some hard knocks. Her garden has significantly dwindled in size due to the recent shrink in demand, while the cost of importing Dutch flowers has skyrocketed.
“It is difficult nowadays to run the kiosk. But I have been doing this for 20 years. I will not give up now,” Urumova said and let her sparkling hazel eyes linger over a pink orchid growing in an earthen pot.
A brown walnut leaf danced in the sudden gentle breeze and rested in the orchid pot. Urumova picked it up. Winter does not come on the “Flowers Alley.”