You know you're not in New York when your car winds through coastal Maine marshes and ends up at a freestanding flower shack. The owner sets out bunches, posts the prices, and leaves for the day. There is a tin box inside for cash.
A few years back I heard she had some health problems but then a few years after that I think she recovered. I don't know her but I love what she does and I always buy her flowers. Just seeing a box of money sitting on the side of the road, waiting for the right person to come and collect it is enough to make any urban dweller kind of weepy. The zinnias are so vibrant and sturdy they remain proud, even after a week in a rusted coffee can.
