Saw a huge man with tattoos all over his bulging biceps planting roses in front of Balch Hall today.

Red in the face, he's holding a stalk of roses and talking to his partner, an older guy about half his size. And wondering if the roses he planted on one side of the pavement was too clustered, cos he started five rows on this pavement and only had four rows on the other side. In all analytical and philosophical seriousness. And all the while I was staring at the rose stalk, and marvelling at just how tiny and fragile it looked in his hands...

Moral of the story? I dunno.... everyone loves roses? Don't judge a book by its cover? Big men make good gardeners? Whatever it is, it just made my day that much nicer to see this muscled giant in his dirty faded overalls, all red and sweaty, doing his part to make our world a pretty pretty place. :)