foiled

Ever since walking past the window of Ten Thousand Villages in Highland Park yesterday - when it was closed for Easter - I had been fantasizing about purchasing this canvas yucca plant: a wonderful whirligig of off-white imitation leaves, with a tangled purity and simplicity to it.   Just the thing, I'd thought, for the plant stand on the turn of the stairs, which has had a very depressed (live) plant on it for a while, that (understandably) doesn't quite want to die, but doesn't feel very happy about growing.

So I calculated very carefully how much time I would need, and whether I could fit in a quick shopping trip between their opening time and a meeting I was heading for, and rolled up just after ten a.m., half anticipating a long line of people with exactly the same object of desire.   I picked it up.   No price tag.   I asked the not-very-helpful sales staff.   It wasn't for sale.   It was designed to draw people into the store.   Where could I get one?   Where had they obtained it from?   "They made it."   Who "they" might be wasn't specified - but "they are very artistic."   In fact, there's a web site that offers canvas yuccas, but they look a little less exuberant than this one.   I'll think about it.   Disconsolate, I had to console myself with stealing its likeness through the store window.