Diamonds and Dirt

Mary let out a startled scream.  "My diamond!"  "My diamond's missing!"  Everyone ran over to her.  Sure enough, her large diamond was missing from the ring she wore on her manicured hands.  Frantically, we began searching.  We went over every square inch of the carpeting.  We shook her dress, hoping by some miracle it would drop out of a fold.  We patted papers.  We moved staplers.

When we had looked everywhere, we did what people do when they don't know where else to look: we scanned the ceiling.  It was no use.  We couldn't find the diamond.
 

Prosperity

Mary was deflated.  The ring in which the diamond had fallen out of had been her mother's, handed down after her mother's passing.  Not only was the diamond valuable in monetary terms, it was also sentimentally valuable.  We were all saddened by Mary's loss that day.

Then, about two weeks later, another woman let out a startled scream.  "A diamond!"  "There's a diamond in this file!"

Perle d'Or

Of course, we all knew whose diamond it was.  Mary was cheerfully summoned.  I'll never forget it.  The smile on her face shone brighter than the diamond that was miraculously found that day.

Some say that diamonds are a girl's best friend.  Perhaps that is true for some women.  Some women, like Mary, wear diamonds well.  Their hands are soft.  Their nails are the perfect shape, and painted the perfect shade of soft pink.  Their diamonds go perfectly with their never-a-hair-out-of-place coiffure, and a piece of lint would not dare disgrace their dress.

Gruss an Aachen

I am not like Mary.  My fingernails are cut short.  Most of the time there is dirt under them.  I have scratches on my hands (and most of the other parts of my body, too) from rose thorns.  My hair has twigs and leaves sticking out of it more often than not.  And my clothes are generally, at best, described as comfortable.

So, when my husband and I were shopping for diamonds before we got married, I wondered what the jeweler was thinking.  My sweet, loving, adoring husband kept urging me to try on a large diamond.  But I just kept thinking about my hands digging in the dirt, and of Mary losing her diamond.

Mutabilis

I chose the smaller stone.

Probably only gardeners can relate to my choosing dirt over diamonds.  (And of having continually dirty fingernails.)  But, I'm happy with my choice.  Look at all the beauties in my garden!  To me, they are just as lovely as any gem.

Flower carpet 'Appleblossom'

Which would you choose?  Diamonds or dirt?

(The photos were taken a few days ago, before this last cold front.)