I suppose if flowers gossiped – and who’s to say they don’t? – I might be mistakenly identified as the Hannibal Lecter of the local floral community. “He kills flowers!!!” the chat would go, “Tortures them with no water, lets them dry out to withered, filmy husks. Look what he did to my oldest friend Rose!”

(sigh) It’s never good when the flowers turn against you; next thing you know your lawn’s overrun with nasty, ugly weeds. And, if the local vegetable population gets wind, good luck with next year’s zucchini crop (remember: never piss off a zucchini, they’re in everything. Think of an angry zucchini bread for breakfast. Yikes!) I’m still taking a hit for that whole asparagus-in-a-toaster public relations disaster; the damn thing was unplugged! Who knew asparagus had no sense of humor? Or art for that matter.

So it’s all a perception-versus-reality thing. I really enjoy the character of a dried flower, I think it does things with filtered light that healthily hydrated, well adjusted blossoms don’t. But try explaining that to a perturbed Red Mum with an attitude, it’ll get you nowhere. Maybe next to a Purple Beach Mussel but what good is that?

Advertisements