Join The Conversation With Mishpacha's Weekly Newsletter

The Garden Gang: Forget me not, forget-me-not

Millie Samson

When Auntie Shoshana got engaged, the air tingled with excitement. The house was filled to bursting for the vort, and all the ladies spilled out of the double doors into the cool of the garden. Fairy lights had been placed all around its perimeter, bathing the plants in their misty light. The flowers and vegetables, thrilled to see so many visitors, put on their best show.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

It was late by the time everyone had finally left and the family was on its own. Auntie Shoshana walked around the garden looking carefully at all the flowers, stopping here and there to gently touch one, and then another, bending down to sample their scent.

She stopped and turned. “Do you think,” she asked, smiling, “that I could use some of these flowers for my bouquet?”

The flowers all held their breath.

“Of course,” came the reply, “What a wonderful idea!”

For the next few weeks, the only talk in the garden was who would have the honor of being in the bouquet. Every night, Lupin would walk around the garden, encouraging his “troops,” as he called them. He would look at each flower and tell them to “stand taller” or “smile.” The Rose sisters were sure that they would be chosen. The oldest, with her deep-red flowers, would turn her face to the sun at every opportunity, while her apricot-colored sisters whispered all day and all night about dancing and wedding dresses.

At first, the weeds took no notice of the talk and the excitement.

“Phoo!” they would say mockingly to one other as they pushed their way between the flowers and in and out of the rows of vegetables. “What a fuss about nothing! Why would you want to be in a bouquet?”

But as time passed and the great day drew nearer and nearer, they began to realize that they would never be chosen. They would talk in loud, raucous voices, so that everyone could hear.

 “Who wants to stand under a chuppah anyway?” they grumbled in strident tones. “It’s sooo boring.” But the flowers just ignored them, smiling to themselves, turning their faces to the sun.


To read the rest of this story, please buy this issue of Mishpacha or sign up for a weekly subscription.

Share this page with a friend. Fill in the information below, and we'll email your friend a link to this page on your behalf.

Your name
Your email address
You friend's name
Your friend's email address
Please type the characters you see in the image into the box provided.

Drink to Eternity
Rabbi Moshe Grylak Redemption doesn’t simply mean being let out of jail
Klal Yisrael Is Always Free
Yonoson Rosenblum "In that merit will Klal Yisrael continue to exist”
Home Free
Eytan Kobre My baseline for comparison is admittedly weak
Believe in Your Own Seder
Rabbi Judah Mischel Hashem is satisfied when we do our best
Picture Perfect
Yisroel Besser Take a picture — and this time, send it to yourself
Flying Solo
Rabbi Ron Yitzchok Eisenman As Pesach loomed closer, his resentment was growing
Hanging on by a Hair
Jacob L. Freedman MD “Do you still think that I’m not completely crazy?”
A Song for Every Season
Riki Goldstein Influencers map out their personal musical soundtracks
Subliminal Speech
Faigy Peritzman The deeper the recognition, the deeper the effect
The Big Change
Sarah Chana Radcliffe Spelling things out clears clouds of resentment
The Count-Up
Mrs. Shani Mendlowitz Tap the middos of Sefirah to recreate yourself
The Baker: Part 1
D. Himy, M.S. CCC-SLP with Zivia Reischer "She can't get married if she can't build a relationship...
Know This: Infertility
As Told to Bracha Stein There was no place for me. I didn’t belong
Dear Shadchan
The Girl Here's the thing: I need time