Dorothy brought these dried flowers over a while back and they are lying on top of the large fish tank in the breakfast room. I believe they were her bouquet when she was a bridesmaid in a wedding. There’s something magical about dried flowers. Flowers are, generally speaking, transitory in nature. Their beauty is fleeting, something like a sunset. But a dried flower is a snapshot that lasts, not the same as the flower in all its glory any more than the snapshot is the scene it captures. But they both can evoke a memory or even an emotion. What a wonderful thing.