Deciding we needed a lovely bouquet of flowers this morning (we have company coming!) I got on my bike and rode into the village to the florist shop. It is tucked in behind the community store, the fudge shop, and right on the harbor. It used to be the grocery store, then a bait and tackle shop, now the florist/Victorian antique shop.
The door was open letting in the mornng breezes from the sound. Chester is the owner of the shop. He was born on the island and also works as the local funeral director. His shop is small with two coolers filed with larkspur and delphiniums and sunflowers. I chose my flowers carefully...colors of pink and blue and purple. He carefully wrapped them in tissue paper tied with a yellow bow. I was cautious as I eased into friendly conversation. It didn't take too much as Chester was in the mood to talk and tell stories. He was born and raised on the island..his shop, Annabelle's, is named after his lovely Victorian grandmama. He shared stories of the mailboat from years ago and he told me he is impressed by Philip's dedication to stories, the real stories. As I left, Chester was stil sitting in the overstuffed chair, covered wtih a worn blanket, behind his small desk..I wound my way down the dock through the sea gulls with my lovely bouquet..a new Thursday tradition has begun.