If you find Mother's Day difficult: alternative workshop on 25 March

When I did my floristry diploma, we were taught about the importance of certain dates in the calendar - the most significant being Valentine's Day, Mother's Day, Easter, and Christmas. For another module, we were taught how to sensitively take an order for funeral flowers. We didn't really put them together, and it's only because of personal losses in the last few years (my own and my friends') and my work as a bereavement counsellor that I've seen how the two are connected.

I have mixed feelings about Valentine's Day, and I still wish it was used as a day to celebrate all kinds of love rather than solely a day for couples to remind themselves that they're a couple.

I've seen how Mother's Day can be upsetting for people - whose mothers or children have died, or whose mothers or children are ill or disabled, or who are estranged from some of their family. It could be that someone has a difficult relationship with their mother or child for all kinds of reasons. It could be that a woman wants to have children but can't. It could be that a woman chooses not to have children but gets messages that she's less of a woman for it. Last year, Jennifer Aniston wrote about the scrutiny she comes under for her maternal status, amongst other things.

It's easy to suggest that someone just ignores Mothering Sunday and the messages that are implied with it, but unless you're a hermit, it's near-impossible to ignore Mother's Day in Britain. Adverts and articles will pop up on television, newspapers and websites, the shops (that includes florists - sorry) will do their damnedest to make you remember, and even if you want to just go out for the day, there might be themed lunches and afternoon teas in cafes and restaurants.

So, with some encouragement from other therapists and flowery friends (waves to Sara at My Flower Patch who is running a Spring Workshop in Wiltshire and donates to local charity The Finlay Foundation), I am running an alternative workshop the day before Mother's Day.

• In this workshop, we'll get to talk to each other about what makes Mother's Day difficult.
• We'll do some mindful exercises with flowers.
• Then we'll make a scented posy that people can keep for themselves, give as a gift, or leave as a memorial.

The workshop will be held at Neal's Yard Remedies in Sevenoaks on Saturday 25 March from 1.15-3pm. You can book your place by visiting the shop at 134 Sevenoaks High Street or phoning the shop on 01732 456402.

The cost is £30 and this includes the workshop, a posy to take away, and a £5 donation to the charity Child Bereavement UK.

This year, Child Bereavement UK has launched a campaign called Make for Mum to encourage bereaved people to remember their mothers or mothers to remember their children. The charity supports children and parents who are bereaved or facing bereavement through their national helpline; one-to-one, couple, family and group support; and training for professionals and schools.

Review of the year: Winter/Spring 2016

Happy new year! 

I put my back out yesterday, which wasn't the best start to 2017. And my depression has taken it out of me lately. But my back's on the mend, and hopefully my mood will lift as the days get longer. Today I was looking through this Liz and Claire Cowling book for inspiration, and their beautiful words and pictures gave me the gentle kick I needed.

So here is the first part of a quick photo review of the year. No politics and no misery here; just beauty and hope. Here's wishing you and your loved ones lots of good health, peace and joy this year.

An Easter taster

I had the privilege of doing flowers for a gorgeous Easter wedding yesterday. The bride is a friend who I met 21 years ago in our Sunday job at Boots. There are hundreds of photos of pre-wedding prep and set up to sort through, but here are a few for now.

Tiptoe through the tulips

I've taken this title from a song that was used at the start of a fairly recent episode of The Walking Dead, in which poor Sam, a disturbed child, was hiding in his room and playing old records. That horror aside, I just thought I'd share some more tulips - before they make an appearance in people's gardens in the next month or so.

January joy

It's the last day of January, which means there are just over five months until my university research project is due in. I remember thinking we had almost a year...but now I am regretting my complacent start to the project last autumn! In happier time-travelling news, it is less than two months until British Summer Time. The days are already feeling a teeny bit longer, which is helping me to feel sunnier, even though I hate the cloudy, grey days we keep having.

I saw the film Joy on New Year's Day, and it was a great film to start the year - Jennifer Lawrence is brilliantly understated and made me feel optimistic and enthusiastic about new beginnings and second chances. Even though film awards are a load of nonsense (I've never felt inclined to watch Paul Haggis's Crash after seeing it at the cinema, but I have watched Brokeback Mountain several times since I saw it at the Odeon Panton Street), I'm afraid I get totally swept up in the hype, and end up disappointed every year! I would love Inside Out to win Best Original Screenplay, but I'm sure it won't. I would rather Jennifer Lawrence be nominated for her incredible acting in the last Hunger Games film than Joy, but I think awarding bodies are too snobby sometimes. I do hope Brie Larson wins Best Acting awards for her role in Room, though - she also played a character called Joy, and the film, despite the traumatic subject matter, was beautiful and sensitive and hopeful. There was a lovely atmosphere amongst the audience in Greenwich when I watched it. We cried, we laughed, we held our breath, we sighed with relief, and we cried some more.

I bought a bunch of Lincolnshire daffodils from the garden centre after shopping for late summer bulbs. The flowers were not quite "Garden Fresh", but they were close enough! I've loved daffodils ever since my ex (Welsh) boyfriend bought me some for St David's Day - the first flowers a boy bought me. The ones I bought this week had a faint scent that was more noticeable when you first stepped in the room.

Pretty ballerinas

My 'Black Jack' and 'Artist' tulips have failed to make even the most timid of appearances. After months in the soil, there is not a bit of growth to be seen. Meanwhile, my old tulips grow away, gracing me with lots of leaves...and no flowers.

But I've had two minor successes.

The first, and most prolific, is 'Spring Green' - a beautiful white and green tulip that my old supervisor, Leigh at Wild at Heart, recommended I grow. It's taken a few years, but I can finally see what he meant!

The other, moderate success is 'Ballerina'. I heard they were beautiful and scented, and the name made me think of my dancer friend, Helen. The big container looked like it had been absolutely demolished by snails a month ago, but a few Ballerinas soldiered on and graced me with this.

The scent is incredible. I think it's the strongest-smelling tulip I've grown.

My last bulb posies for this year, I think. With the last of the scented 'Geranium' narcissi.

Last of the spring blue, white and yellow

I cut the last of the narcissi whose flowering times overlapped, so I could make a nice mixed posy. The 'Geranium' narcissi smell incredible, and a couple that I cut for a bottle lasted a good week, and the scent filled the room. They have pretty orange cups and beautiful white petals. There were also white 'Cheerfulness' narcissi from last year, which have flowered much better this year. And bright yellow 'Double Smiles' (can you spot a theme here?!). There's one 'White Lion' narcissus here too.

I found some forget-me-nots growing in the cracks of the pavement. There were only a few, so I cut some of them and put them in a tiny vase. I meant to take a picture of them by my little finger so you could see how the flowers are smaller than my small fingernail. A flower for fairies, if I ever I saw one!

Cherry Blossom Boy

I keep banging on about this, but plenty of boys and men like flowers too. So it was a joy to do these flowers for a wonderful man who's a writer and an artist. His vase went perfectly with the pink cherry blossom.

It was lovely to use cherry blossom while it flowered for such a short time. It's amazing stuff - you see nothing, then tiny buds for weeks, then suddenly there's pink blossom everywhere. It means impermanence, the European Victorian meaning taken from the Asian countries where the trees originated from.

I used garden spiraea for the first time. It made me think of Maggie Smith in Alan Bennett's Talking Heads. 

"In the best tradition of my floral arrangements they look like the poles of a wigwam, so I go and see if I can cadge a bit of backing from Mrs Belcher. 'Are you using this?' I say, picking up a bit of mouldy old fern. 'I certainly am. I need every bit of my spiraea. It gives it body.'"

I used some more at the Garden Museum. It will probably only last until the end of the week, and then the petals will fall like pink confetti. That's the thing about impermanence - it encourages us to enjoy things while they are around.