I live in Flowerville, Louisiana, where wheat fields stretch out into the distance and a variety of flowers bloom around it. This is the only place I've known for the past fifty years, and I would like to keep it that way. Every day the sub slowly rises over the fields waking a variety of animals in the barn. They moo and neigh as the field turns orange. The children run out to tend to them and complete their morning chores. But sometimes they will run deep into the tall wheat fields to get out of it- I love watching them do this. Eventually, their mother finds them and towards the barn, they go to do whatever chores are on the list for that morning. But these are just some of the many people, animals, and events I see here. They all adore me and never do anything to disturb my peace. 

 The security of not being moved has always kept me calm. If I get stressed, my throat starts to swell and that's a problem. But that does not happen often. Although the fear has been there for fifty years. My throat started to swell from the sight of a truck. It's not the typical Farmers Ford F-150, but a large freight truck with colorful flowers covering the sides. 

The truck parks across the street in the flower farmer's driveway just across the dirt road. Never once has it pulled into my farm. Every day I like to think I'm lucky. Lucky that I'm not in the care of them- that's the reason I have been here for this long. Every time I peer over to the vast flower fields and think of the horrors that go on. In those moments I feel nauseous and unstable from just the thought of it. But that would never happen to me, I'm practically a landmark on the land. Like always the sun shines bright - the kids rush out of their house to either avoid or do their chores. Normally they visit me around this time, but they didn't. The sight of the sun blurs- today I don't think I'm so lucky. This was confirmed when the little girl waved goodbye to me - not with her normal peppy smile that would make the grumpy man down the road smile - her face filled with an indescribable sorrow like she lost her favorite stuffed animal. I glance over at the truck, it's almost whispering in a killer-ish voice “I'm gonna take you”. A relief swept over me as the truck stayed in the flower farmer's parking lot but my feeling never faded. This has been an annual recurrence one I couldn't avoid- considering hot being able to move. As the day passed by I stared down the men as they kept on transferring flowers out of the sweet soil into little black containers. The different flowers varied from peonies to sunflowers and daisies- but I never witnessed them take something as delicate as me. 

The day flew by, and my anxiety never eased until the kids were already home from school and starting their night chores- maybe the men weren't taking me. In the distance their mother walks out onto the wrap-around porch and yells into the distance “Flora Martin come inside now!” The kids rush past me following mother's orders, eager to feast on the stew that has been boiling for hours. The warm smell fills my nostrils, making me starve. For a brief second, my mind wasn't narrowed on the truck- the relief was sweet. But then the sour hits- the truck never left. My anxiety comes back and the hunger disappears. The sunsets and the kids look fiery orange as they run back to the home. I am all alone- no one in sight is here to save me. In the distance, I see a group of men closing in on me, now I can't see anything.  

That night a crowd of curious townspeople huddled by the main house where a news reporter stood doing a segment for the people. 

Hi, I am Clover Chester. We are tuning in from Flowerville Louisiana, where the legendary one-of-a-kind longstanding orchid has just been removed. This extraordinary orchid flourished in the same plot for fifty years. Recently we did a piece regarding the beauty of the suburbs, a major part of that was surrounding this ‘magical’ flower. It is still unclear why she was removed. Maybe Flora, a little girl who has been taking care of Orcha. Hi Flora, do you know what happened to orcha? 

Flora: Well earlier that morning my mom told me world-ending news - or at least in a ten-year-old's eyes it is - they were going to pick and sell Orcha (the fifty-year-old orchid) to the flower farmers. I didn't believe them at first because she had been there forever. But after a little episode, my mom told me to say goodbye during my morning chores. It was water day for flora and she is my favorite plant to water because I know it will keep her alive forever. 

Cover: what did you do to say goodbye? 

Flora: I ran through the field as per usual- doing my best to avoid the thorns- by then just stared and waved. I almost started crying but I was strong. And then I went to school for the day.

Clover: And was the flower- sorry Orcha- still there when you got home?

Flora: Yes, well she was getting picked. It was hard to see because the sunset always made it hard to see over the field. But she was being dug up and as I went to run and try to stop my brother pulled on my pigtails and said ‘no’. I had no choice but to let her go. 

Clover: did you see anything that happened after that? 

Flora: I stayed until it got dark and the large truck pulled away. But she went through the normal de-grounding process. First, they check if she is healthy enough- which of course she was. I've been taking care of her. Then they go and take her out of the ground and transfer into a growing pot - that will simulate like she is still in the ground. But last of all she is put into the refrigerated truck and transported far away from here. 

Clover: Do you know where?

Flora: where what?

Clover: Where are they taking her??!- jeez I forgot I'm talking to an eight-year-old. 

Flora: I think they will take her to the big city but I don't know. No one tells me anything

Sadly there is little information to be learned, tune in later to learn more about what happened to the de-potted orchid. 

I became conscious. questions Flood my mind- I've been out for how long? I can't tell, I don't see any of the outside. It is so cold, and dark. There are no longer miles of farm instead what feels like eternal darkness. The smell of dirty diesel fuel spread and cold floral, mixed with an old mildew tinge poisoned the massive refrigerator on wheels and almost completely drained all the water from me. Freezing water flushed down from the sealing. I feel like I'm being electrocuted as my body stiffens and starts to shake uncontrollably- the water doesn't stop pouring down for what feels like hours. At home, the water was always room temperature and a little sweet. The combo made me glow and outshine everything else. This was a trick Flora learned from the woman across the way. I once overheard her say in a kind, soft voice ‘If you put in the perfect amount of sugar. your plant will be more vibrant than your contagious smile. I wish the old lady was here to give these men a lesson about gardening. 

All of a sudden I hear footsteps going past me. One of the men opened the large tin doors allowing a blinding light to fill the container. I immediately see the walls layered with a cool white installation to keep me cold. The floors beneath me are covered with splats of color. A variety of flowers grow at the neighbor's farm. The shelves looked like they went for miles back. On them, I can only see myself. One orchid after another. I'm no longer special. I don't shine and draw the attention of everything around me. Am I still special? The farmers did sell me so maybe I'm not special? Maybe I'm just a generic, sellable orchid. next was nerve-racking- and not the good type like when you are waiting to

be watered. I needed natural light to grow. 

The men entered and they came for me first. 

Over the next three hours, I get dried, handled, pocked, and re-potted into a Japanese-inspired vase. I have never felt so violated as these people determined my future. They determined my future was in a storefront where everyone could see me. 

The streets are sparkling from top to bottom in purple, green, and gold. Mardi Gras recently passed through all of New Orleans. I have never seen so much decorative color. I could see myself blending in with the rich royal purple. I counted hundreds of people who passed in front of the store- gazing in, being fascinated at my beauty. Some even walked up to the glass and just stared. But no one came to visit me. From the outside, the store looks so vibrant and full of life. But inside it is desolate and empty. Searching through the store to find a purpose but there was nothing- I am nothing. 

I feel like centuries have passed by, and the sight of people rushing to get somewhere has become bland. There is no vibrant sun or vast fields, just a stressed-out city. Miraculously I was taking my afternoon nap when the sound of the doorbell scared me awake. Finally, a man walked in tall, sort of skinny, with a small beer belly, hidden by a fancy suit. I would never see anyone like this at the farm except the one time I saw a lawyer. I couldn't understand much of his shaky voice. The man looks as if he can kill a plant faster than a cow eats grass, what is he doing in this place filled with delicate flowers? The store owners and the man started walking in my direction. The anxiety returns, there is no chance he would pick me out of the hundreds of similar orchids. But he pointed to me. The store owner walks over and hoists me up. I am then placed into a plastic bag and handed over 

I am seasick from the constant swaying. Feeling as if I'm about to throw up pollen The black plastic ‘ thank you’ bag left little room for oxygen. I was constantly being slammed against the man's body, my stem weakening unable to support the vibrations from each hit. The poles that are supposed to be buried into me are almost completely out of the vase 

hands pressed around my vase and lifted me out of the bag, then placed on a counter. The man wanted me again- even though my soil was perfectly moist. Now the soil looked muddy. 

I am just staring at people who aren't rushing but admiring me. I can see design

labels like Celine and Ted Baker But not a single pair of muddy jeans or plaid shirts in sight. This place looks like an alternate universe where people never got sun and didn't know what animals were. I mean how could they if they don't live with them? The apartment looked like a stark cold blank museum. There were no fields to run through or anything to see. A black couch over there and a white kitchen right across from it. I feel myself moving again. The next thing I see is a Candyland filled from top to bottom with color. A little girl's pink bedroom is decorated from head to toe with sparkles, fairies, Barbie dolls, and the occasional scribbled drawings hung up because “she is the next Picasso”- according to the parents. I fit right in!!

The man cautiously placed me on the little space left on her bedside table, I could see my scent spread through the room making it small, fresh, and sweet. I wonder if this is what Flora's room looks like. But it can't possibly be Flora only ever played in the mud and wore overalls

The little girl was having an immaculate day that just got a trillion times better.  

Hello everyone we are back, I am Clover Chester on a journey to where the historic orchid has ended up. After digging I found her here in a luxury apartment in the city of New Orleans, right after marti gra. We are now talking with the current owner of the flower, Melody. So Melody, who is this? 

Melody: Well, this is Daisy. My new best friend! 

Clover: how did you get Daisy? 

Melody: Well I came home from school and I saw her in my room- it was a surprise from my dad. He said, “I know that Mardi Gras is your favorite time of year, and the flower reminded me of it”. He was right, the flower is the exact shade of purple!

Clover: Do you know how to take care of flowers?

Melody: no, but at school we are learning about them right now!

Clover: have fun, and take the best care of her

There we have it folks, after fifty years the orchid has found a home. Let's see how this magnificent flower feels about her new home. Stay tuned for later when we finally get insight into the legendary orchid's reaction to her new life. 

The little girl says to her dad. “I'm gonna name her Daisy! Hi Daisy, I'm Melody. I hope you like your new home. I will take the best care of you. Will be best friends forever”

Clover: how do you feel?

Daisy: my stem is still recovering from all the stress. This is the most that has ever happened to me in the past fifty years- and all in two days!

Clover: Do you miss the farm? 

Daisy: Of course I do! I miss being watered properly and having others to talk to. 

Clover: what do you like about your new home?

Daisy: Well I like… 

Interviewer: … 

Daisy: I like the little girl...She reminds me of the one on the farm. I like the colors in her room. I feel like I fit in. and my name. I like my name. 

Clover: Do you think there is anything new to come of this? 

Daisy: I'm excited to make her happy. I won't be alone anymore.

Clover: What a touching end to a hilly story. I am Clover Chester, and this is the Discovery Flower Channel, back to breaking news at 5pm!

Daisy now perfectly placed in the little girls room believes…

I now have a home and a purpose