May 5, 2007

Francesca Silver and Arnold Hoover

Our beloved Olde Town has undergone a renovation within the last two years. Gone are the nameless junk shops that offered novelty salt and pepper shakers and faded antique postcards (already written on, of course). Our main drag has been widened and is supposedly more pedestrian friendly. That's not to say that we haven't retained some of our previous charms; the Arvada Tavern coexists just fine with our modern new library, and the Odd Fellows still meet every Thursday at 10 pm in order to plan their eventual world domination. It is only that if one were to visit our shopping district now, they could find wine tasting, bookstores...and lots of silk flowers. We have at least three silk flower shops; my dears, one cannot turn one's head without being poked in the eye by an artificial lily or peony. One might assume that the interior of Arvadan homes look like Rose Parade floats.

One of our cadre of silk flower purveyors has captivated the attention and imagination of all the eligible bachelors in our burg. Francesca Silver is not an Arvada native, but hails from the metropolis of Seattle, Washington. Indeed, my pets, from the beginning of her sojourn here, this auburn-haired beauty has impressed us all with her sophistication and grace. The woman knows how to tie a scarf and she can even apply perfume without suffocating her neighbors. Like a bird with exotic plumage, she stands out from our flock of sweatsuit-wearing sparrows.

Her fine taste drew a loyal customer base to her shop, Creations by Francesca. It also drew the attentions of one of Arvada's most notable citizens, Arnold Hoover. Mr. Hoover is the descendant of Colorado pioneers, and therefore has always taken history very seriously. When the city originally planned to erect a parking structure on the site of the old schoolhouse, Mr. Hoover and Ms. Silver were thrown together to prevent the travesty.

"My grandfather learned his 3 R's there," explains Mr. Hoover, a slender, graying man of middle years. "The schoolhouse was a community center in this agrarian settlement, and to lose it would be to lose the heart of Olde Town." Mr. Hoover shows an eloquent passion when speaking of our community's past, a trait that aids him in his post as Town Historian. "Francesca felt the same way and spoke her mind to the City Council. I couldn't help but fall in love with such a fiery crusader." The very thought of his lady love brings a soft smile to Mr. Hoover's face.

Ms. Silver's flair and courage caught Mr. Hoover's eye immediately, but it was some time before Ms. Silver noticed our town historian. "Arnie is a quiet fellow," she recently declared in her husky contralto. "He avoids anything flashy and only speaks when he has something worthwhile to offer. He likes simple pleasures, a simple life. People like that often don't get noticed. But after we spent some time together on the Historic Arvada committee, I was won over by his commitment and integrity." The two will continue to devote time and effort to keeping the historical flavor of our town. "People like a bit of history when they are in the market for beautiful things; it makes the experience of buying fake flowers somehow more real," admits Ms. Silver, the savvy businesswoman.

The ceremony was dignified and quiet, as is appropriate for a celebration of partnership in the middle stage of life. Ms. Silver decorated the altar and reception area with her customary elan; many guests remarked that they felt grateful to be transported to a flowery environment after facing mud and bare trees for so long. Every tendril was arranged with care. The vows were short and sweet, and then there was dancing. The older gentlemen in the crowd wore their festive fur hats once again, although it was a warm April day. They looked on peacefully through the entire ceremony. I must have been mistaken about the whole squeaking thing last week.

Mes amis, all of these lovely weddings are indeed making me a mushier person, I'm afraid to say. But it is nigh impossible to resist the flowers, the wine and all that sentiment whirling about in a cloud of tulle and organza. If I were not already married, I would run out this minute and find a groom.

Note: Forget the cloud of tulle and sentiment, dearies. Sacre bleu, do I feel like the biggest fool ever to sport a corsage. Two days after I reported the Silver-Hoover nuptials, I received word that Ms. Hoover, nee Silver, had annulled the union. No reason was given. Mr. Hoover is distraught; our town is divided. I have a mind to picket Creations by Francesca's, but I wouldn't be caught dead near the place. Silk flowers are so tacky, anyway, is it not so?

This Week, Mrs. Filthy's Reading:

The Scarlet Pimpernel by Baroness Orczy