blooms end was always meant to be a story.
The Nature of This Flower Is to Bloom
Rebellious. Living.
Against the Elemental Crush.
A Song of Color
Blooming
For Deserving Eyes.
Blooming Gloriously
For its Self.
Revolutionary Petunia.
— Alice Walker
“Blooms-End” was the name of a house. A fictional house, in Thomas Hardy’s 1878 novel Return of the Native. The name of a house where no one named Bloom lived, but the town knew it as Blooms-End and that was what it remained. The identity of that house existing independent of those residing there.
Similarly, Howards End was the name of a house in Howards End, E.M. Forster’s 1910 novel. There’s a bit where the stodgy old aunt arrives for her first visit and at the train station begins asking after “Howards House.” The porter doesn’t blink an eye and directs her towards Howards End. Where a family called the Wilcoxes live. It all has a touch of the ridiculous to it, doesn’t it?
And from there, the name Blooms End begins to grow in meaning. Links to Molly Bloom, my favorite character in Ulysses (and yes, okay, the lead of Ulysses, Molly’s husband Leopold Bloom), to the Bloomsbury group, a London set of writers and painters and husbands and wives and lovers and friends in the early 1900s who met and shared ideas and supported each other’s work (the dream), to San Francisco candy and restaurant institution Blum’s, which began pre-1906 and continued into the mid-century for ladies to dine in ease and refinement, to treat themselves to a special afternoon.
But the words continue deeper. The end of one’s bloom may be something to grieve, but choosing baking as your form of art, you learn to embrace the ephemeral. That statue may last lifetimes, but a croissant will only wither. Enjoy it now. Or what if the Bloom is a physical flower, growing tall out of the soil. And at the end of that bloom? The earth? Yes, but also an invisible network of roots existing to support that single flower. And you can walk by and enjoy the beauty of that flower. You can eat a slice of Blooms End cake. And you may appreciate it for its flavor and sweetness. Or you’re invited to look deeper for the story that lies below. The care taken to choose each individual ingredient. The inspiration behind the flavor combinations, whether pulled from the books I read or from a memorable time in my life. The person behind its creation, the hands that made it.
I’ve noticed there are two types of customers. There’s the transactional ones, the ones who’d like me to take their money and would like their croissant and they’ll be on their way thank you very much. And there are those who are interested in a dialogue, a conversation. They see the croissants and they see that those are somehow me and they would like to know more. Both are very valid customers. The Revolutionary Petunia blooms for deserving eyes, yes, but also the passer-by cannot be totally prevented from seeing. (Perhaps by seeing it you become deserving?) You don’t need to know every bit of Blooms End lore to taste a croissant and understand that it’s good. There is no password. You’re allowed to call it Howards House (or Bloom’s End), I’ll get it. Because to be honest, a lot of this I do just for me. “Blooming Gloriously For its Self.” But that there exists a group who would like to become part of the story, to contribute by supporting and listening, enjoying and appreciating, now that’s something special, something humbling and beyond my imagination.
That’s what this space, these words, are meant to highlight. The Blooms End.
Talk more soon,
xo Mary