This next story comes from a commenter. Fievel writes: Hey DC, here is a picture for your next story. I am giving these flowers to my wife and I thought that she would love a story to go along with them. Thank you.
A lovely photo. Your wife is very lucky. Without further ado, your story:
Old Lady Molly had the most beautiful garden. It had azaleas, lilies, roses, chrysanthemums, orchids, magnolias, hydrangeas, and hundreds of other colorful flowers. Her yard was a jungle of petals and fragrance.
Molly inspected her garden every day. She knew exactly how much water to give each plant, and to make sure that some got shade while others stared wide-eyed at the sun.
But Old Lady Molly did not tend to her own garden. She was too old. Instead she stared out at her beautiful plants from her back porch. She sipped tea and peered from over her glass at the long green stalks swaying in the wind. Sometimes she felt like their youth taunted her. Even so, Molly did not allow any dying or sickly plants to linger in her garden. She had her gardener cull the greenery often, just to make sure that everything stayed perfectly beautiful.
It was a warm afternoon and the condensation swelled around Molly’s glass. She smacked her lips after a swig of iced tea and looked up to see an appalling invader. There, in the far corner next to the front fence, was a cluster of thick green stems with bristly thorns sticking out.
They were just baby stems, only a few inches high. But to Old Lady Molly, they might as well have been the tallest plant in her garden. Their unsightly neon green color and fur of thorns made them impossible to ignore. Molly would not allow those babies to grow.
She called the gardener over to her. “Get rid of those,” she demanded, pointing to the corner. The gardener did as she was told and pulled the strange plants up firmly by the roots. She threw the weeds over to the side of the house, where they would be picked up as trash. Molly returned to surveying the rest of her lovely garden.
But a few days later, the same thing happened. Those same horribly ugly green stems popped up from the ground. There were even more of them. They were refusing to give up. This time it took the gardener a whole hour to pull all of them out.
The next week, it took the gardener two hours, then four. By the time the weeds came in the next month, the gardener spent an entire day pulling all fifty neon green stems out of the ground. Old Lady Molly grabbed a spray bottle of poison and hobbled over to the corner.
“Go away!” she shouted. She sprayed every upturned speck of dirt. She removed all surrounding grass so that the soil would lose its richness. She had to get rid of those awful, awful weeds.
After some more weeks passed, and the weeds were truly and really gone, Molly began to notice that the empty patch of dirt was quite an eyesore in itself. Her garden was not as pristine.
She popped over to the nursery and looked at the flowers, but she already had a packet of every flower seed there. Next she visited the botanical gardens for inspiration. Yet her garden was far more diverse than the city’s.
As the car door slammed, Molly sat and fumed in the backseat. Her gardener buckled herself in the front and turned on the car engine.
“Shall I drive us home?” she asked Old Lady Molly.
“No,” Molly replied. “I can’t stand to see that empty patch. Take me to your home for some afternoon tea.”
The gardener paused, then nodded and steered the car down the road towards her humble cottage. In the back yard, she had a modest garden, which was brimming with color in its own quiet way. Old Lady Molly had seen this garden a few times. But today, her eye was drawn right to one particular patch of flowers.
“Those purple flowers,” Molly said. “They’re stunning.”
And it was true. The purple flowers grew tall over the others and blossomed into wide saucers. The lilac petals were speckled with small yellow dots. In all the flowers in her life that Molly had seen, these were the first she did not recognize. She went over to them.
“What are these?” she asked her gardener.
Her gardener tucked her head in and went inside for the tea. Molly turned back and studied the flowers carefully. Behind those giant saucer-petals, she caught sight of something familiar. It looked like a patch of prickly thorns were surrounding the entire stem.
“You found them.” The gardener’s voice came over Molly’s shoulder. “I just took them home to see what they would turn into.”