Flower shops in San Francisco, CA (page 2)

Fog rolls off the bay some mornings, and the cooler glass stays clouded from the cold, wiped clear each time someone reaches for a bunch of ranunculus or the last of the garden roses. Buckets crowd the floor near the door, protea and dahlias from small growers stacked next to eucalyptus cut long enough to brush the ceiling. It smells of wet stems and cold air. The counter itself is narrow, just enough room for a cutting board, a roll of kraft paper, and a card someone is finishing before the bus arrives. Ribbon spools line one wall, color coded and dusty from constant use.