Like the name of the individual who is responsible for the delightful flower stand in my neighborhood, for example.
Come springtime, for as long as I can remember, the stand goes up on the same corner and flowers magically begin to appear.
It’s a harbinger of the season. The flowers are garden gorgeous, bursting with color and displayed in unadorned tin cans and glass jars as vases.
They seem to be replenished weekly throughout the summer and into early fall.
Prices per stem are listed on the outside of each container and the money goes into a slot in the table. Payment is on the honor system, as there’s never anyone there to take your money.
I’ve watched people drive by, stop, pull over and pick out a few flowers, and they always put something in the slot.
The other day, I pulled up behind a gentleman who was busy putting together a bouquet.
He told me he is a “regular” at the stand and makes it a point to buy flowers there once a week on his way home from work.
When he said he brings them home to his wife, I practically melted. Another time, I was at the stand with a woman who was gathering some flowers to give to a friend who was ill.
“These look so much nicer than the ones in the grocery store,” she remarked.
“Plus, I find they last longer.” People seem not only to delight in the lovely flowers, but in the old-fashioned honor system of payment, perhaps because it’s such a rare concept these days.
The money is obviously not that important to the stand’s owner, who probably takes more pleasure in sharing his/her garden’s bounty with others than in reaping any cash benefit from the endeavor.
I’m sure I could find out who’s behind this venture if I did enough digging or “staked out” the place.
But, I have no intention of pursuing this line of action. I really don’t want to know.
For me, the charm is in the anonymity.