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  • Kathleen Gill



One of the modern markers of spring, most anywhere, is the appearance of waves and waves of flowers at one’s local garden center.  They are breath-taking, and they stir in me a yen to get outside and dig.  One clear bright morning this week, after a soaking rain, I stopped into my local store just to whet my appetite – I couldn’t help myself – and was handsomely rewarded.  Dazzling pinks, luscious oranges, creamy whites, sunny yellows, all fresh and dewy in that morning light.

Before I knew it, out came the camera and I was happily snapping away.  Something felt odd, though, and I glanced around me.  Sure enough, a worker was keeping an eye on me.  I wasn’t ready to stop shooting, but now I became furtive.  I placed a few flats of annuals in my shopping cart and waited for him to move out of sight before continuing.  Eventually I paid for my selections and left.  I was happy with my photographic harvest that day, but it felt a bit like plunder.  For the life of me, I can’t work out why that is.  Is it stealing if the victim lost nothing?


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