Flower arranging was in full swing when we got back to the AL community. Mom Loves this activity. We dropped mom’s purse and jacket at her apartment, where I noted the usual small collection of flower buds in plastic cups. I suggested that she join the flower group, I’d find my daughter to swap car keys (her SUV is much easier for mom to get in and out of than my coup), and then join mom. Mom liked this plan.
My daughter told me to hang out with the flower gang for a while, saying her Grandma was the Flower Boss, telling everyone how to arrange the flowers. I was entertained by this new piece of knowledge.
The flower gang consisted of 3 ladies, one gent, and a care staff gal. The flowers arrangements are for the dining room tables. Mom was working intensely on her arrangement at the opposite end of the table from the others. Her vase was tightly packed and very colorful. I stood at the end of the table, catty corner, and close to mom. Her right hand pocket was full of yellow mum buds. The banter at the table was pleasant. Mom didn’t engage. One of the residents noticed my Master Gardener shirt, and teased that I was there to grade them. I assured her that I could teach pruning, but flower arranging was not my bailiwick, and they were the experts. Mom corrected my pronunciation of ‘bailiwick.’ At that moment the care giver said, “Lorna is our coach” with a dry touch in her voice. Mom did not get bossy in front of me.
Certain flowers were running low, white mums in particular. Mom, in front of God and everyone, reached for the last white mum, and rather than place it in her arrangement, stuffed it in her pocket, dislodging some of the yellow buds. She bent down, scooped up the yellows, and put them back in her pocket. She didn’t try to hide what she was doing, and in fact, kept talking with me the entire time. Does she not know she’s pilfering flowers? Does she think no one else knows? I don’t know what to make of all this, other than I think it’s funny and harmless! 🌸🌼🌻