It had to happen

It's been a few days since I checked on our flowers so I thought I'd look in on them today.  And here's what I found.

First of all, they've been moved.  They are not on the same table they've been on for the past 10 days.  Someone moved them to the neighboring table.

And now they have a friend.  It's a broken sprinkler head. 

I think the sprinkler head came from the nearby patch of grass in the little park where these tables sit.  Someone found it, perhaps broken off by a lawnmower or weed eater, and didn't quite know what to do with it.  After all it didn't belong to whoever found it.  And they probably couldn't fix it.  

If, thinking technically the sprinkler head was city property, they had brought it to city hall, which is practically next door, they probably would have been met by a confused city worker who works either for the accounting department or the billing department.  That's who sits behind the first desk everyone stops at when they visit city hall.  

The Police Department is right inside the front door of city hall and they could have brought it there.   But how could they know if there was any crime involved?  This could have been accidental.

So not knowing what else to do, I think they placed the broken sprinkler head on the table, right next to the flowers.

Can we still call them flowers though?  

Look at them.  They are really not flowers any more, but the phrase "dead flowers" is so heartbreaking, we do anything we can to avoid using it.  

So for now, let's let the picture tell the story without us having to say it out loud, even though we all knew sooner or later it had to happen.