“Where did you get those flowers?” my mother asked suspiciously when I presented her with a bouquet of papery dry blossoms. They were as deep blue as Egyptian lapis stone. The stems still held their heads high after the long walk home that hot summer day.
The moment she learned they had come from the neighbor’s garden Mom was on the phone. I heard mea culpas flooding the kitchen. Then she hung up to announce we would be taking them back because they were “everlastings”, and the neighbor wanted to dry them for her arrangements.
Continue reading “Maintaining the ‘Statice’ Quo”