So much violence in the news. Guns, shootings, ammunition hoards, war and bombs. I escape to my garden.
'Tardiva' hydrangea flowers, dried at the peak of their rosy color, are a soothing sight on the porch. The winter sun coming in through the windows makes them glow.
It's too cold to sit on the porch, but I see this pretty arrangement from inside the kitchen, through the sliding glass doors. Soft pink. Beautifully tall and elegant. The container is perfect to hold them.
It's very heavy cast aluminum, about 15 inches tall, with an inner ring inside the narrow tube that holds the hydrangea stems in place. It's bronze colored. It is not a florist's vase.
It's a spent shell casing.
Jim pilfered it 45 years ago when he was in army training and they had concluded some night action, leaving shell casings all over the field. He took one.
My lovely rosy pink panicle hydrangea arrangement, so calming and soul soothing in these times, is standing in a discarded ammunition cartridge.
Something is not right.