Mrs. Flowers

Abstract

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

• Mrs. Flowers
• Mary Jo Salter

Five minutes before the concert begins.I'm sitting next to some old guy—even older than I—and ask him some idle questions.

Does he live nearby?Oh, did he walk then?I walk that street, I know his view—right on a little public garden.

Nothing fancy, and yet delightful.I picture the spring newlywedsposing for photographersbefore beds of tulip and daffodil

or under the bridal canopiesof cherry trees;billowing picnic blankets keptfrom flying away

by babies, set down like paperweights …but I don't go into that; he knows it.It's wonderful the city supports itis all I say. [End Page 479]

Oh, he says, the funds are private.Or they are now. Didn't used to be.Really? It turns out he was chairof the garden committee

for years and yearsand he had it on authoritynobody else who worked on the citybudget had been aware

a little fund for the garden was in it.Don't rock the boat,don't ask for more, orthat pittance will be taken away:

that's what his source had said.And then that city bureaucrat quit.He happened to be replaced—get this—by someone named Mrs. Flowers.

Mrs. Flowers! The old manlaughs at the thought of her, the dragon.She cut the garden fund at once—Cut Flowers, they called her—and ever since

the locals, or those who can, donatemoney or time. A happy ending—or not quite that; a funny oneabout killjoys, who always sort of win. [End Page 480]

The string quartet is tuning up;it sounds like whining,the sort of thingpeople tend to do on committees

before one person has the senseto call for silence.The old man and I defer to itwith a seasoned nod

as people in the neighborhoodhad to Mrs. Flowers.And went on waiting for the musicand planting flowers. [End Page 481]

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