You wouldn’t think so, but the capital is bursting at its seams with the good intention of ladies bent on improving upon nature. They meet frequently and with dedicated purpose, devoting their days and lives to growing the perfect pumpkin, creating the ultimate floral arrangement, finding the right vase, or twig, or branch, pebbles and baskets. Around a score years ago, my wife joined one such club — reluctantly, I might add — having, at the time, not a very high opinion of those whose only purpose in life appeared to hinge on calculating the appropriate distance between three blooms
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