At the Flower Show

I missed it this year ... I hope to be there next year ... but last year? Oh, then I relished a sampling of subjects at Sinclair Community College. Did I ever!

I'm not good at estimating crowds, but I'd guess there were about 200 of us ... older, seasoned students ... who delved into such areas as writing, art, the internet ... and more practical subjects, too, like finances and health.

It was a great afternoon spent in the cave-cool surroundings of the school.

I knew it was going to be hot when I emerged and headed for my bus stop afterward ... but I wasn't quite prepared for the mid-90s which greeted me.

I wilted. Almost immediately. While I was trudging down the street with my packet of goodies from the conference, I couldn't help thinking about another time that I had wilted.

Because of the grandmother who always raised flowers ... and reared me ... I have always had a certain connection with blossoms.

There is just something about being in the company of flowers ... the memories they stir with their scents, their color.

"At the Flower Show" is about one of those special occasions, a gathering of flowers ... and people ... a flower show.

But it's not so much about the flowers. I felt that my collection of words, picked up here and there along the way, would be inadequate to describe the flowers.

Ah, but the people. I was one of them. I could jot down something about the experience of being at a flower show. It would be something to remind me of that sunny day, that beautiful setting ... the realities of being there.

Of course, I couldn't resist the temptation to compare the visitors to flowers themselves.

The poem:

AT THE FLOWER SHOW

Visitors blossom in bright lines

when day begins, but start wilting

under the sun, and throngs

slowly surrender, settling

like long rows of potted plants

along the wooden benches.

© 1999

(originally published in Sisters Today)

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Today's word: wilting

Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:

Thank you, Sue, for stopping by again ... and for those cool thoughts on this summer day!

Thank you, Helen, for stirring memories for me with your mention of Forest Park and the Jewel Box ... I remember making visits there ... as an adult, and what happy occasions they were. I also recall the heat in St. Louis, the first time I was there ... a brief layover on the way to basic training at San Antonio, many, many Augusts ago.

Oh, you got that right, Kelly ... HOT and steamy ... steamy and HOT. About the paintings ... I keep intending to take photos of more of them so I can post them ... but other things seem to keep getting in the way ... things like finding a cool place to walk (even the shade-to-shade hikes have lost some of their appeal) ... sudden need for another nap, etc. ... but one of these days ... oh, one of these days I'm going to become so organized ...