The weather today makes me wonder if we’ve woken up in another month. From 68 and sunny to 32 with snow flurries, I suffer from a case of weather whiplash.
Maybe that’s why the bright pink of the flowers catch my eye. The boys and I are at Kroger. We’ve snuck out of the house to buy donuts and to let Daddy sleep.
“What do you think of these?” I ask, picking up the bouquet.
“Pretty!” A. says.
F. responds with a less enthusiastic shoulder shrug. That boy only wants things baked in a circle and covered in frosting, Why? Why, woman, do you confuse me with these plant thingies?
“Who are they for?” I. asks.
“I was thinking for us. Maybe in a vase on the kitchen table.” I love fresh cut flowers. I’ve dedicated an entire section of my summer garden to growing flowers specifically to cut and keep around the house. Flowers freshen up any room. I’d pick flowers over floor polish any day of the week.
“Or we could give them to Mrs. Jacks.”
Mrs. Jacks lives across the street from us and recently sold her house. After forty years in the neighborhood, she’s packing up to move to a retirement home.
“I think that’s a better idea.”
How do you argue with such wisdom straight from the mouths of babes?