Blowing In On The Wind
Let’s see. Where was I? Oh, yes. It was about the shock of Petal Plumblossom blowing in my window with the wind . A quick recap, if you missed Part 1. I was intent on exercising my whimsy muscle which had been inert for too long. You know what they say. If you don’t use it, you lose it . At the same time, I was keeping an eye out for any muses who might deign to pay me a visit. I opened the window to get some fresh air, when the wind blew in with the fancy girl fairy, Petal Plumblossom. That’s where the story left off.
Let me tell you she was as surprised (understatement) as I. We just looked aghast at each other for a moment. Then, I introduced myself and explained that the other neighborhood fairies occasionally come here for tea and petit fours. From their chatter, I assumed that she was who she is. She confirmed my assumption. Seriously, it was obvious going by her haute couture and haughty airs.
I invited her to stay and have tea with me. Since I was not expecting guests, I did not have petit fours to accompany our tea. I was able to offer homemade cookies which delighted her. Apparently, homemade cookies were a delicacy in her world.
To make a long story short, preferable to making a short story long, I will leave out all the juicy stuff for now. I will say we had a very lovely and enlightening conversation. Things and beings are not always what they appear to be on the outside. P.P. (Petal Plumblossom) gave me permission to tell her story whenever I was so inclined .
I must confess I had made assumptions about P.P. from listening to the gossip of the other fairies. When we assume, it makes…well, you know what it makes of us. There are times when it takes common sense and humility to defer to those with more knowledge about a situation or person. There are other times when we ought to pay attention to our Spidey Sense and recognize there is another side to the story. That was the case with P.P. There was definitely another side to her story beyond fancy clothes and fancy airs. When she saw that I was genuinely interested and trusted I would not judge her, P.P. shared her story.
Although she gave me permission to tell you her story, I’m thinking that her story is not the story. The story may be more in the lessons learned and things to remember about what is really important.
Eeyore, who was a downer donkey most of the time, had his moments of insight . One of these insights is worth the mention here. “Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them.”
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