It was a good year for flowers. My parents’ flower farm was small petunias compared to the big players in the game, but it provided a decent living for them and me and my brothers. We didn’t have the massive… Continue Reading
“Just a minute!” I holler, wincing as I push my hands on my bed to leverage myself up. When the doorbell rings again, I repeat: “Just a minute!” Apparently, whomever it is can’t hear me, because knock, knock, knocking commences.… Continue Reading
The flowers glow against the pewter light of a soggy spring. You regard them with distaste. Your feet smack against the pavement, thud, thud, thud, aggravation weighting your steps. You do not want to go. You do not want to… Continue Reading
At least once a month Susanna swans in with a huge bunch of flowers and makes a big show of finding a vase to put them in. Seeing as she’s the only one to ever need a vase at work I… Continue Reading
Like in a movie Jimmy raced across town to the one flower shop that didn’t close at six. He whirled around the corner and burst inside, setting off the jangling bells that hung from the door. “Man,” he said, “I’m… Continue Reading