So we're driving to work this morning, and turn off Beacon Street onto Gloucester and the last few blocks to the office. (Side note: why is Gloucester pronounced Glosster, and Worcester pronounced Wooster, but Dorchester pronounced DoorChester? And why is Woburn Woobun, or Peabody Pibbidy, or Billerica BillRicka? I mean, America is spelled similarly to Billerica, and nobody's singing God Bless AmRicka at hockey games...) And just after we turned, we went past someone working in the tiny garden in front of their brownstone, and saw these ENORMOUS red and purple and orange flowers. They weren't sunflowers, but the heads were as big around as manhole covers. "Look at those! What are those great flowers?"
"Do you want me to go around the block?"
"Yes, let's go back." So I go do a kind of figure-eight around four one-way streets to get back there, and we pull to the curb and get out of the car. Turns out they're huge fake flowers, kind of like mutant dahlias, with stems about three feet long and thick as garden hose. The gardener was wiring them onto the porch railing. Nora asked where he got them, and he didn't know, so he went into the house and returned with the owner. She got them at a local floral supply, available only as wholesale objects for other business owners. But now we're thinking about getting a hundred or so of them and lining the road up to the lawn where we'll have the ceremony. Better to look at giant mutant flowers than at all the rusted-out Plymouth Reliants.
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