My garden party was exquisite; haute monde and blue-bloods sauntered about my Tudor-style mansion overlooking sunlit Oleander Bay. Chamber music was provided by Julliard, and catering by Marriott. My many gardens bloomed in full splendor.
As an international botanist, I made millions in the flower trade and enjoyed discussing flowers with my guests as I walked about.
I approached a large garden patch and spied a short Latin looking fellow holding forth to fascinated bystanders.
“Yes all their symbolic meanings have human characteristics! The pretty Amaryllis is pridefulness, while Flora’s Bell means without pretentiousness. The glorious Goosefoot means insult while the King’s Spear symbolizes regret.
I admit my immediate jealousy of this show-off. I stood above him glowering. “And how do we know so much about flowers pray tell?” I asked icily.
He looked half incredulous and somewhat embarrassed. “Why I am your head gardener senÕr.”
A proud man forgets himself.