African violet

"You have to make sure you don't wet the leaves of this plant. Otherwise, they'll turn yellow, shrivel up, and your plant will die," she explained patiently. We were standing in the middle of the bamboo forest, and she was holding the little potted violet that I had picked out in her hands and wouldn't let it go. I reached for it, but she made a protective move with her elbow and took a step back. "Make sure to read the care instructions in the brochure I gave you," she said sizing me up from top to bottom. I think she thought I was an unreliable character. "And don't hesitate to bring it back here if something goes wrong. We can help you diagnose the problem, but we don't give refunds on dead plants." I made another move for my green pet, but she stepped deeper into the protective shade of the tall bamboo stems. "If you do everything right, it will reward you with magnificent blooming in the summer and fall. It is a spectacular little plant." I should've been wary of such lavish adjectives in reference to the tiny little 10-leaf thing in her hands, but I guess I took her words at face value. I was terribly disappointed this fall when the plant finally bloomed, and they were tiny little blue flowers. The very opposite of magnificent, I would say.