One of my hobbies is to collect beautiful things and preserve them. This pressed flower actually comes with an interesting story.
When my four siblings and i were young our parents decided to get us a parakeet. Because of our simplemindedness and lack of creativity, we decided to name the bird Topwing, the brand name of the cage we had bought. Sadly, the poor bird didn't last more than a year. This quickly became a pattern as we continued to name the birds Topwing number two, three, four, ect. After the fifth bird's death we figured we should probably pick a different name. Our new bird's bright yellow head inspired the name Lightbulb. She went through many nicknames such as Bur-Bur, Bulbbrain, and Mojito (which, by the way, is an alcoholic drink. who knew?) She lived through many wresting matches, vaccum cleaners, and hoses. 5 years. We were extremely sad when she died giving birth. It was early morning when we discovered her death. My younger brother and i were the only ones home so naturally we were assigned the job of burial. We set out on a short hike through the misty woods behind our house up to the highest hill. When we reached the top the mist had evolved into a steady drizzle, which i loved. The morning light and rain saturated trees made it a beautiful journey. The two uf us buried her in a box underneath warm moist soil beside an old tree with a giant knob on the side of it. We walked a little further untill we were out of the woods and in a clearing where we could look down and see the small, open valley below us. We climbed on top of two tall stumps. There we stood, at the top of the world, watching the rain fall. Soaking, I bent down, nearly falling off the skinny stump, and i picked a flower. This flower. Later i pressed it underneath the largest book i could find, left it there, and forgot about it.
So there you go. Sorry for the long, drawn out story. I have alot of time on my hands.
