Want her to bury her nose in chemical-laden blooms? Bathe in a tub of pesticide residue roses? Give a bunch that somewhere, somehow is slowly mowing down farm workers?

Nah.
This year, be our (Green) Valentine.
Not all flowers are created equal
Our flowers are not only safe to smell, bathe in, or even eat, these were grown with a strong commitment to preserve ecological balance. Our flowers are grown using sustainable agricultural practices including organic, biodynamic and natural farming methods. We don’t use highly toxic herbicides or pesticides to keep pests off our flowers. What do we use? Fish emulsion and milk! Even beneficial insects like ladybugs and wasps. Our flowers don’t feed on carcinogenic chemicals to live. They feast on organic matter made from cow manure, legumes, wild sunflower and farm weeds. That means no health hazards for our farm workers or our florists. That also means no toxic runoff in our groundwater or soil. No contaminated waterways. We also grow them here, in the Philippines. That means you can be assured of less carbon footprint to send your hearts’ greetings. Want another reason? They are actually more vibrant and colorful, and they last longer than their conventional counterparts.

We draw on years of experience, trying to grow our flowers biodynamically, without chemical inputs. What we give you are vibrant, beautiful and living blooms, you will be most happy and proud to give. And if you were our Valentine, you help keep harmful toxins from our soil, our environment, your family, our farm workers, and you even help us change the floral industry too. Read more about our Farm Practices.
Make this day of Love count. Send your well-meaning intentions without the toxic back-story*.
*Toxic Back-story
As with most monoculture agriculture, conventional flower farming makes use of a large number of dangerous chemicals including methyl bromide and methyl paratheon (chemicals deemed too toxic for use in the US or EU.) Flowers grown conventionally use a lot of herbicides, fungicides and chemical fertilizer. The only reason why you do not know these is because flowers are not edible (well, some are) and are not under strict Food and Drug standards. In fact, a study found pesticide residue in imported rose petals to be 50 times more than in food imports. Aside from the health hazards, conventional floriculture is damaging to the environment. Imagine the amount of carbon that is released from cultivation, fertilizer production, transport, or think about environmental contamination from fertilizer run-off, pesticides and fungicides. But the most toxic back-story of all is the health of farm workers. Workers in conventional flower farms are exposed to herbicides and fungicides on a daily basis and in closed spaces. Flower farm workers in Ecuador and Costa Rica suffer from respiratory problems, eye problems and skin rashes. They also show symptoms of pesticide poisoning: headache, dizziness, nausea, diarrhea, fainting and skin eruptions.
Now why would you want that in your bundle of love?




I wanted to sleep and wake up on February 18. No one shrinks from Valentine’s Day like I do. It is not because I abhor sentimentality. I have a deep fondness for that which makes you fleet and float and flitty-flee and fly. I can fritter away my time reading Neruda and Rumi, or watching The Love Affair for the nth time. I adore fated meetings that lead to soft wet kisses on a woman’s back. Dark chocolate and scarlet red roses, I am that kind of girl. But if you please, not on Valentine’s Day! It’s February 6 today and I have been cursing the season. For the past four years, I have been loathing every rose, every bear, and every heart balloon bellowing “Happy Valentine’s Day!” Well, not today. Writing this piece, I am illumined by the splendor of what I do. We grow flowers, the lucky kind that gets picked to bear love and heartache, joy and pain, every yearning, and a lot of times, carry tears of regret and hope. There is something magical about what I do. I carry sentiments. I get to see every bold and brazen guy in town and all over the world, get loopy over the Day of Hearts. And oh, if there was one thing I am fond of, it’s watching cool dudes sheepishly choose a flower arrangement to symbolize devotion and then painfully declare love on a piece of paper. No matter how hard and callous our world has become, I have a daily, hourly, by the minute proof of love in all its guises: There’s the husband who writes: “I fall in love with you everyday;” Casanovas who cunningly order identical bouquets of flowers bearing the same love notes to three different girls; doting sons who buy two bouquets every year for their two great loves: mother and wife; a horde of faraway husbands and lovers blowing their kisses in the wind; besotted lovers onto a new romance; smitten couples who are yet to meet; my list is as boundless as the love that overflows. And oh, the prose and poetry that love can inspire. Lest not forget a few brilliant lines. Message for the bejeweled wife of an affluent executive who obliged his driver to buy his wife’s prized flowers: “Happy ValentiMes!” At least, he left out “Ma’am.” Still, and clichéd and soppy as it may read, whether it’s a husband who knows his lines, a Casanova who knows even better, or even when all the grammar falls apart, every man falls in love and tells it so. They touch the very same virtue and vice that launched a thousand ships, wrote “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day,” painted Mona Lisa and played Canon in D. Every human being, whether he’s all muscle and brute, at one time or another, will be captivated by love. And one day I’ll find him at our flower shop. And it’s Valentine’s season again. And how I would want to wake up on February 18 when all their sentiments have already been sent and I can once again be enamored by love.







