Just when I have cleared most of the flowers from the funeral - how they lifted my spirits: both the garden-gathered posies and the florist-bouquets - I received a new delivery. From Ian in Wellington, came this posy of Iceberg roses, with a picking of French lavender. Ian hand-delivered them himself having miraculously transported them in his hand-baggage yesterday, on a flight from Wellington to Christchurch. From his garden in Karori, Ian had precisely gathered each bloom at unfurling stage and packaged them in a careful elaboration of wet paper, cling film, cardboard toilet roll inner, and supermarket bag. The lavender came in a dainty side spray for use as I pleased.
A little note about the pink glass vase, which was just the right one for this offering: like many recent aquisitions this came from my mother's house. But unlike most of the treasures, which had been hidden for so long, this 1940s vase had sat on a window sill to be admired at every outside passing. Visible but untouchable, since the room behind the drawn curtain was filled to the brim with the hoardings of an obssesive collector. I was still working on clearing this room when the Earthquake struck, and when I was eventually able to reach the window, this vase was a reward in more ways than one.