Scary Flowers

Last night Priya and I spent the night on the town: Manchester Village. Shopping, of course: that's what the place is famous for. All the upscale outlet stores are here, but in quaint little old New Englandy houses. Anichini and Dana Buchman and Coach and so on and on.

Dinner was a place Priya likes, a Mexican restaurant called Candelero's. Although she herself doesn't drink, she talked me into a margarita, and I must say it was a good one. Straight up (as a cocktail should be), proper glass, no trace of the dreaded sour mix, and a generously salted rim. I make better chilis rellenos and guacamole and flan, but they weren't bad, and the margarita made up for everything.

As exceptional as the margarita was the landscaping around the restaurant. Huge exotic flowers, many of them black. These giant caladiums were one of the few varieties I could identify. It occured to me that a similar planting might be effective for the Emory House. My house is a dead ringer for the Bates Motel, and these flowers were really scary. Add a rickety iron fence, and I bet I'd never get a single trick-or-treater.