The day is grey and foggy. I crave flowers like a junkie needing a hit. My amaryllis has yet to bloom. I pick up bright orange gerbera daisies.
This is the “Christine’s flower threshold theory”: a community rises out of abject poverty when one sees flowers in the market.
When I was living in Magdanly, Turkmenistan there were no flowers for sale. (I was living there for a few months working with Médecins Sans Frontières.) People could barely afford food, let alone splurge on flowers. Besides, we were situated in the Karakum Desert, one of the hottest places on Earth.
To get flowers, one would go from home to home, asking if anyone was willing to part with a couple of lovingly cultivated flowers from their garden. An alternative was to head to the mountains and gather some rare wild blooms. On occasions, I have been presented with flowers. These gifts are special, signifying hours spent in acquiring them.
Here we are in a rich society. All I needed to do to get my flower fix is to walk across the street to the store. I am grateful for the flowers that grace my home and the bounty that fills my pantry.
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