reading the signs

(note: I am sunburned! or sunburnt! barely, but still.)

A couple of weeks ago for Mother's Day, my sister and I took our mom to one of her favorite nurseries near Salem. Usually these gardens are in full bloom in early May, but due to our long cold winter they're a couple weeks behind. Almost nothing was blooming! We had fun anyway, as is our habit. My favorite thing about this garden (which is primarily for selling iris), is the signage. There are a bunch of iris named for cheesy blended drinks or saxophone songs from the 80s, but some have that little extra something.


I imagine all the other plants in this bed are stressed out of their minds trying not to piss off Fiery Temper. Rumor has it she stabbed some azaleas who dared ask if that was her natural color. She did it with a garden stake, was immediately remorseful and moved shortly thereafter.


I'm sure I don't need to tell you what's going on here. Some find him charmingly straightforward, others find him obnoxiously full of himself.


This one recites the Poe poem The Bells once a month, every month. (Twice in October, when it is merely a rhizome in the ground keeping time, time, time/ In a sort of Runic rhyme.) As you might imagine, reactions are mixed.


I wonder what it means in the language of flowers when you get a bouquet of these?


or these? (is the secret about the extra 0 in the price?)


were they sent by the Ominous Stranger? What makes him so Ominous, really? Is it one of those "really pale, only goes out at night, keeps looking at my neck" kind of deals, or is he more of a brooding loner type? Or something more prosaic? (I bet Tintinnabulation knows.)


Or, rather than ask anyone, you could just go out with the Ominous Stranger anyway. I'm sure it will probably be fine! Of course you don't mind going to his deserted castle located between a wolf covered mountain and a hyena filled canyon! You'd love to meet his orphaned niece and nephew in need of a governess, who happen to be creepy twins in matching tattered velvet outfits. (THEY ARE 13!) Sure, you'd like a drink and it doesn't bother you at all that there is something dissolving in the bottom of it, and that the O.S. "isn't thirsty" because he "had a drink yesterday" and "doesn't drink...wine."


Hmmm. I have a strong intuition...

.... okay, seriously! I'm going to have to send Fiery Temper along to shout some sense into you. Tempting Fate is one thing, but you go too far.