I was walking down the street from a guilty Sweet Life visit when I saw a little old lady approaching. Her blue helmet (stylishly placed over a floppy straw sun hat) gleamed in the sunshine. In one hand she clutched a cane, in the other, a white flower. When she was about 12 feet away, I noticed she was talking. I looked for a headset of some kind, none – she was talking to me.
She held out the flower, a lovely little thing with three leaves attached. She was saying, “I thought this was a gardenia!”
“It certainly looks like a gardenia.”
“That’s what I thought, too! But I smelled it and it isn’t a gardenia!” She stared at me in amazement for a moment, and then confided in me, “I picked it! I shouldn’t have done it! I picked it and smelled it and IT’S A ROSE!”
“It doesn’t have rose leaves, though.”
“It’s not a gardenia! Isn’t it lovely? I just went over there and picked it off that bush I wish I hadn’t done it. I wish that bush was mine!”
Stifling laughter I assured her that the people wouldn’t mind if they were missing one gardenia-rose. Happy, she continued on her way.
I looked at the bush for a minute. It was a white camelia (looking on teh intarwebs, I think it’s a Camellia japonica). I always hated the pink ones (they fall off & turn into brown lumpy messes), but I have to admit the white is a tempting yard addition.