Charlie and I love challenges. We each enjoy daring the other to solve a puzzle, riddle or seemingly impossible situation.  It keeps our creative juices flowing, and we have fun!

His latest challenge started just before Christmas. He came breezing in at the height of a snowstorm, fresh as a daisy but carrying freesias.

“A bouquet for you, darling.” He extended the fistful of flowers, which looked just as gorgeous and colorful as he did.

“I sense a gauntlet.”

“You must make these last until spring!”

Everyone knows that cut flowers can’t last three months, especially delicate freesias. I was surprised they even made it through the snow.

“Compelling conundrum, Charles. You’re on.”  He breezed out, leaving me to ponder the problem.

“Hmmm. The stems and blooms will die soon, so how to make the freesias last?”  Art. The answer had to be Art.

First, I took photographs from all angles. Portraits, close-ups, sunlit, blurred, shadowed, in a vase, flung on a table. I even threw them in the air and captured their falling shapes and hues. Then I started writing. Poems, stories, haiku, memos. I wrote about each freesia color. There were more than a dozen poems just about shades of yellow and gold. I penned intriguing, short memos that suggested deeper stories – “Get freesias for Mom before Dad discovers the truth.” “Flower girl allergic to freesias –doesn’t matter now.” I wrote stories about freesias as centerpieces at dinner parties, clues in murder mysteries, gifts before parting. And don’t even get me started on the fragrance haiku! I couldn’t get enough of freesia discoveries. Hours before the Equinox, I arranged the photos and writings in an oversized bright blue binder and called Charlie. 

“Charlie, boy, I’ve done it!”  He and Spring arrived together, along with a friend who just happened to be a publisher.

Next day, we had a signed contract, a hefty advance on future flower books, and a brand.  “Full Monty Flowers,” laughed Charlie, when I challenged him to a brand name duel.

“Next flower?” Charlie asked.

I handed him a pot of hyacinths. “Deadline, Summer Solstice”.