Flowers Flowers Flowers

Jun 4th, 2009 by admin in Diary

The Elegant Message

I received flowers yesterday; my neighbor kept them out of the sun for me until I got home

from work. She called out, from behind her laundry, all nervous. Come get them. Right

away. There is something weird and overwhelming and dramatic about receiving flowers–Gladys was

very tense when she told me how they’d been placed in the sun, rescued–a lot of consulting

had clearly taken place between her, the delivery man, and the flowers themselves.

There could be death. There could be love. There could be all of it or none of it. Flowers.

I brought them in. They are larger than my dog and heavier–pound wise and message

wise. I figured out how to accept them. And got down to the pleasure of it all.

I like how the yellow-gold roses–truly, the most beautiful shade of yellow I have seen

in the world in awhile, so much more mature than daffodil yellow, so unsunny, and just

thrumming–I like how the small roses, the queen of flowers, are tucked down along the

baseline, making a humble hem. They are so used to starring in the show. I love how they

are beneath the riotous weeds, the sprockets, the snapdragons! Class warfare? I don’t think

so. I think the roses know where they look the best, tucked in, perfectly bred and lasting.

I love all the color. I love the Japanese arrangement. I love the lack of greenery, filler.

It is all real and sent to me and I accept and I understand and I like what they have to say.

You know my indulgent aesthetic: books and flowers in every room. Keep a small house.

Word After Word