{"id":6993,"date":"2022-05-31T14:47:39","date_gmt":"2022-05-31T14:47:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/9thstreetjournal.org\/?p=6993"},"modified":"2023-05-26T22:22:18","modified_gmt":"2023-05-26T22:22:18","slug":"stop-and-take-the-roses","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/9thstreetjournal.org\/2022\/05\/31\/stop-and-take-the-roses\/","title":{"rendered":"Stop and take the roses"},"content":{"rendered":"
The world can be a bleak place (see politics). Even Cosmic Cantina \u2014 home of what is truly \u201cThe Best Mexican Food On The Planet\u201d \u2014 can be a bleak place (see college students drunkenly crying over breakups). But sometimes the wafting scent of Cosmic\u2019s fry oil mingles with the perfume of real, fresh roses. There\u2019s a little joy in the air.<\/span><\/p>\n In the stairwell that leads up into the cosmos \u2014 ok, the Mexican restaurant on the second floor \u2014 a bin sometimes appears, full of flowers. The bin \u2014 black, plastic, 2-feet tall, and about as plain as they come \u2014 is one of Durham\u2019s accidental secrets.<\/span><\/p>\n It sits at the back door of Ninth Street Flowers. More OfficeMax under-desk-trash-can than vase, the bin is nevertheless filled with water and whichever over-ripe blooms can\u2019t go in the fine flower shop\u2019s expertly curated bouquets. A notecard, attached to the bin with a clothespin, says \u201cFREE.\u201d You can take any of the pungent blooms you desire, but \u201cPlease,\u201d the flower shop asks in tiny letters, \u201cleave our container.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Today the black bin is filled with roses. Red, pink, yellow, white, eviscerated.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The flowers, tucked away in the narrow graffitied hallway, are a generosity afforded to all who might almost trip over the bin that holds them. (Were I an English major at some fussy school, I might be tempted to note the juxtaposition of the scene \u2014 the fresh flowers in a practical trash can, the natural beauty of roses coupled with scrawled tags that say everything from \u201cit\u2019s yea moms fave\u201d [sic] to \u201cdeath comes for all of us\u201d to \u201cDan + Bryn\u201d to \u201cmonsh,\u201d whatever that means.)\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The barrel of fresh blooms feels a little out of place in the hallway, but these flowers have been ousted, unceremoniously, from the cooler inside Ninth Street Flowers. Their new home, in the black bin, is only temporary. Plenty of people pass the flowers. Some lean in to (literally) smell the roses. Only a few stop to actually pick one up.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Today the first is a teenage boy in a white T-shirt, gold chain, baggy gray jeans, and \u2014the accessory of a generation \u2014 AirPods. As he enters the hallway to Cosmic with two friends in tow, he snatches a single pink rose. The flower is still coiled tight around the bud, it has barely bloomed, and he seems much the same. He leans against the walls as I ask about the bloom in his hands.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Despite the \u201cFREE\u201d sign on the bin, he isn\u2019t eager to discuss nabbing the flower. He answers questions with one- and two-word answers and seems ready to call his lawyer if I get any more persistent. He gives only his first name, Vincent. I ask how old he is; he says he is 17.<\/span><\/p>\n Asked why he took the flower, he shrugs. \u201cLooks nice?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n Has he ever taken a flower before? Indeed he had. What did he do with it? Gave it to a friend. When I ask about the nature of this flower-loving friend he just lets out a single chuckle. His friends crack up. Realizing I have no power to detain them, they retreat upstairs for The Best Mexican Food on the Planet.<\/span><\/p>\n I get a bit more from Connor Bost, 17, and Ambrose Kee, 17, than I did from \u201cVincent.\u201d The boys, so in sync with each other that even the tint of their lavender shirts match, are taking a lunch break as they study for finals.<\/span><\/p>\n Teenage boys \u2014 save once a year for prom season \u2014 aren\u2019t exactly the target demo for flower shops like Ninth Street Flowers, but the boys, fresh off their Mexican food binge, are bubbling over the bin marked \u201cFREE.\u201d Connor has picked up a rose and Ambrose is about to \u2014 he\u2019s taking a second to decide.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n They are students at the North Carolina School of Science and Mathematics just a few blocks away. Delighted by the sweet smell in the air as they exit the building, their sunny demeanors don\u2019t seem like those of stressed-out juniors (or as they prefer, \u201calmost seniors\u201d). But they <\/span>are<\/span><\/i> stressed out about finals. The flowers, not usually purchased as study aids, are coming in clutch. The rose he is now holding is the perfect \u201cdestresser,\u201d Ambrose tells me. Connor\u2019s lips curl into a smile as he looks down at his rose and nods in agreement with his friend.<\/span><\/p>\n * * *\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n The bin, when it appears, seems to materialize by magic \u2014 pushed out the back door by a disembodied hand. The hand belongs to Karen Flueck-Holveg, the general manager of Ninth Street Flowers. She is charged with caring for the bin.<\/span><\/p>\n