Some people live their lives flowerless. They are in such godforsaken portions of the Earth that nothing ever puts forth a bloom. Or the plants that do flower are such minuscule things that you can hardly see them, let alone make a bouquet of them.
Yet others may well be in the florid zone but never stop to smell, much less notice them. They can pass a florist’s shop without a scrap of interest. They may not be gloomypots – just concentrated upon other forms of life and design.
The saddest of the flowerless are the people who would dearly love to be given them as tokens of emotion – but never see anything from one year to the next. They may have vases all over the house, but none ever contain tributes.
Here is a set of red roses to cheer them. The more determined can go out and buy their own – the resourceful grow them in pots. You can tell them – they smell nice and are covered in thorn scars. They do not call the rose a vegetable assassin for nothing.