My dad did not like garlic nor plastic flowers. Any devon sausage infused with garlic was not for him. Worse were the plastic flowers. Already then, plastic flowers and even plastic plants were a normal occurrence in people’s homes. ‘They last forever and look so pretty, almost like real flowers,” many would say. Dad despaired about the country that so loved gardening, yet so accepting of that which wasn’t real. Is there anything else that is not real, he felt like asking?
Years later I worked for someone who had a holiday house at Palm Beach, North of Sydney. Avid readers of my blog might remember, my ruminating over my first visit to Palm Beach noting a total absence of waving palms. How could anything be so blatantly wrong? Was this legal?
While in Palm Beach working, I came across a garden where the owner had actually planted plastic peace lilies (Spathiphyllum) in the garden. They were in full…
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Plastic Plastic Plastic.
Can there be anything sadder or more ironic than plastic flowers placed in jam jars on grave sites ? It’s like raising a middle finger to the notion of impermanence. The focal point, moreover is the jam jar – pressed into service because other graveside visitors steal vases – but the jars do the rounds too !
In the main shopping strip here in Waikiki (year round the temperature ranges between 27-28 degrees) we see a fake snowman with skis in the window of a shop attempting (with no visible success) to sell fur coats – one presumes to Americans and other northern hemispericans retiring to their snowed-in homes. Now there’s a business with no future in a warmed globe.
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So true.
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