Resusified

I'd slipped yesterday's irises into a narrow glass cylinder and woke to them this morning; they were unfurling.

Near noon, however, I heard one stem bend (there was a sound to it) and then another, and I realized that yesterday's water was gone, and there was nothing to sustain them. I filled the vase again, had little hope.

This afternoon, when I returned to my office, I found the irises unfurled and upright. They had survived my neglect and my mood.

I had, too.

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Curing the Blues

Here's what you do when you're feeling blue:

1) You buy the flowers for which you've been yearning (I could write a story with the tips of these irises, couldn't you?).

2) You dance salsa, samba, rumba, fox trot, jive, and waltz with the masterful Jean Paulovich (throwing "Pulp Fiction" moves at one another when something goes wrong and not complaining, not for one second, when he tosses you to the floor. "New move," he says. "Yeah, right," you answer.).

3) You pay attention to the friends you have—the love they yield, unasked for.

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