Two days after Valentine's, and the flower guy on the 1st
floor of 59 Wareham has a wall of boxes full of flowers he
has to now throw out. His workers didn't show up because of the
"storm", and the stands he'd planned to set up on the street vending
the flowers were all thwarted due to snow emergencies.
The place smells great, though.
He's picking at some still-fresh roses,
skinning off the leaves in one swoop of his
hand, right over the thorns. I ask him if he
doesn't get cuts from doing it like that, and
he says,
"Yeah I get cut up, but it doesn't hurt
if you're makin' money."
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