At lunch, I left the office and drove to Busti where there was a celebration, the 150th Anniversary of the town. I bought a program and a house plant from the woman who owns the Duncan Andros Nursery. It was a display of hostas.
“I’m buying this for a girl I know.”
“Oh, she’ll like this. Here, this one is one of the better plants. I’ll tell you a secret, if you dab a paper towel in milk and rub the leaves, it’ll make them shine.”
She was there with her youngest daughter, who asked if I wanted my face painted.
“I’ll paint a peace sign or heart for twenty-five cents,” the young blonde girl said. “Both for forty cents.”
“I have to go back to work so you can’t paint my face.”
“I’ll paint your hand. A peace sign on your left and a heart on your other hand.”
I paid the young girl forty ce
