Bouquets With Meaning A pre-dawn mist drifted across the upper bows of the old oak trees as Sebastion, a young lord of the court, slipped cautiously out into the kitchen gardens of the castle. Glancing over his shoulder in hopes of not being seen, he spead along to the herbs. The fragrant plants let off an exotic aroma as he chose carefully from among them. He hurried out the back gate and into the formal gardens when he heard the grumpy head cook bustle into the kitchens. The first sunray of the morning reached out and touched the dew dampened petals of a perfect red rose. Carefully he used his dagger to cut the bloom, trimming off the thorns. His mind filling with thoughts of Lady Rosilyn as he inhaled it's sweet fragrance. Rosilyn awakened early, even though she had arrived home very late from the gala ball. A soft smile played at her lips as she went about her morning duties. However, as the day wore on, a quiet doubt began to shadow her eyes. Maybe he did not feel as she did. Perhaps it was only her beautiful older sister he wanted to be nearer to, as so many before. Hoof beats in the courtyard brought her out of her reverie. As she rushed to the door she brushed smooth her morning dress. A page was at the door and he swept off his hat, bowing low, he held out a small bouquet. "To M'Lady Rosilyn from Lord Sebastion." Blushing and taking the flowers, she hardly remembered to thank him as she rushed off to her quiet windowsill to examine the nosegay closely. Her heart was in her throat and a light shown in her eyes as she saw there: basil, chervil, a ruffle of dill, sweet lavender and the perfect red rose. Her heart was forever his. These lovely little bouquets have been a familiar British accessory for centuries, but it was the Victorians that raised them to the level of language. For in a tussie-mussie, each plant has a meaning. A young lord might send his lady fair a bouquet of forget-me-nots (true love), rosemary (remembrance), and a bit of southernwood (constancy). If she didn't find the bouquet convincing she might send back yellow roses (for infidelity) and larkspur (for fickleness). He'd better rush back with white violets (innocence) or a lot of Rue (repentance). After laying waste to several flower borders, they might get the matter sorted out, or perhaps she would finish the liaison with a handful of fumitory (for hatred). Today's revival of the tussie-mussies seems to have sidestepped the lovers' quarrel (an herb patch is unlikely to replace e-mails) and concentrated on creating pretty, meaningful, and fragrant bouquets for brides, new mothers, departing friends, new neighbors and anyone in need of a kind word. The little bouquets have even entered politics. As legislation to form the National Herb Garden wobbled through cpngress, various legislators recieved pleas for support in the form of tussie-mussies. The legislation did pass,which might give pause to anyone inclined to dismiss the power of a handful of flowers. Kath <mzmouser@earthlink.net> ~`* `*' `*' `* `*' `*' *' `*' *' `*' `* `*' *' `*' ~~~