Saturday, November 06, 2004

Today I picked up a small book on the Language of Flowers. It was originally a present from "Father" to "Mother"--handwritten, rather poorly, and with marginal illustrations. It is remarkably charming, but contains a number of items I had not imagined would be part of a bouquet or corsage:

Potato: Benevolence
Rhubarb: Advice
Cabbage: Profit
Lettuce: Cold-hearted
Rocket: Rivalry
Mustard Seed: Indifference

It's the Language of Salad! I could compose a very nasty note from those ingredients.

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