“Don’t forget to have Francesco water while I am gone,” said Martha as she was about to leave for the States. “ The new nursery is great, all organic. I look forward to great organic minestrone on my return.”
“No problem,” I assured her.
After giving Francesco the order, I myself had to leave to attend a convention. Upon my return, before putting down my bags, I heard Francesco swearing at the funny looking veggies that were popping colorful heads out of the earth.
“Do you eat these things in America?” he asked, looking down at a beautiful assortment of colorful spring flowers in a bed of blooming lavender. The colorful flowers were organic, but unfortunately not edible. Th
e new nursery nursery had been sown with spring flowers rather than vegetable seeds.
“Oh, Americani!” Francesco exclaimed, ranting and raving about Americans that eat flowers instead of real food.
That afternoon as I was working in my office, I heard a shotgun blast. Looking out the office window I caught Francesco holding a dead bird. Questioning his actions, he informed me that we would have pheasant for dinner.
“Better than eating flowers,” he added.
