A Case Of Mistaken Identity

On the occasions that I have to go to the 'city' I combine several errands at once. The other day I had to go grocery shopping so I loaded Lucy into the car and headed off the mountain.

It was a glorious day, the sun was shining and not a cloud in the clear, blue sky. This was the kind of day my dear mother-in-law would call 'pristine'. Since it was such a lovely day, I decided to take a quick detour into Shelburne Falls and take a few pictures at the Bridge of Flowers.

The Bridge of Flowers is a big attraction and is on the itinerary of many tour bus companies, several of which cater to senior seasoned citizens. This day was no exception as the area was a sea of gray hair.

I parked the car, and grabbed my camera and told Lucy that I'd be right back. She is so used to me hopping in and out of the car to take pictures, that she just gives me that kind of 'here we go again' look.

As I made my way through the arch of roses at the entrance of the bridge, I was met with the most incredible display of flowers I think I have ever seen, it was absolutely breathtaking. A sprinkling of people wandered the pathway, oohing and aahing at the dinner plate sized Dahlias and the other magnificent blossoms; I may have oohed a couple of times myself!

Well, I had walked the span of he bridge taking hundreds many pictures along the way, and was now headed back in the direction of my car. The crowd had thinned down to about a half dozen people, one being a sweet, little lady furiously taking pictures with a bright yellow, disposable camera. As she zipped by me she smiled and said, "Edith, have you ever seen such flowers?" Edith? I chuckled to myself, I've been called many names but never Edith. A minute later, the lady passed me again almost at a jog, "I just can't believe all these flowers, I hope I don't run out of film!"

Almost back to the entrance, I stopped to take a final picture, as I knelt down to get a close shot, I felt a tap on my shoulder, actually it was more of a hard poke and I almost lost my balance. "Edith, you headed back to the bus? Tell the driver to wait up, there's a Gladiola with my name on it down the path." Before I could respond, even before I could get to my feet, she was gone, charging back across the bridge.

Of course I made the mistake of sharing my 'lady on the bridge' story with my husband, who now insists on calling me Edith. Grrrrr!