A scene rang in her mind from the past: Regal clutching a glossy magazine entitled Blossom Farm Factory. Inside it were photos of countless specimens you could buy from their store, complete with short blurbs, the price, and creative names. The girl flipped through endless chapters including: Daylily, Perennial, Dahlia, Fuchsia, Phlox, Foxglove, Coneflower, and of course Rose, as well as shrubs, grasses, vines. Page after page of lush tapestries, colors like fireworks, dazzling shapes and masses. The captioned names were flashy as well: Summer Carnival, Blue Heron, Candy Mountain, Jade Frost, Amber Mist, Green Gambler, Distant Drum, Caravan Legend, Ruby Peacock, Stellar Cameo, Floral Dame, Petite Serenade, Amethyst Dream, Magnus Haze… the list went on and on.

Regal played a game with that magazine. “What’s your favorite flower?”

Zoem took it from her and frowned. There were so many choices. The Lily-of-the-Valley was simple and lovely; the Coral Bells attractive with their lobed leaves, the foliage rainbow, like a golden zebra; the iris ruffled velvet; the daisies blazing stars; the lavender violet intrigue; the begonias showy and as layered as roses; the lupines twinkling towers.

“The Oriental Lilies, then. And The Hellebores.” They were absolutely desirable, with speckled insides, and rimmed with hues, bright and magnificent. Their color combinations went on forever.

“Oh, Well, I like the ferns.” She pointed to a page. There were bright green fronds, others crisp blue, others after-harvest brown-purple, still others pumpkin orange. Their names read: Bridal Veil, Gold Finch, Dew Haze, Harvest Moon, Ghostly Burgundy.