Presley was in a mood. The kind of mood where she wanted to do something she hadn't done on her own since she was a six year old kid. She wanted to plant flowers, and she wanted to plant them in an arrangement that meant something. Like her mother had done with her. Presley could remember the few times in her life she'd ever felt she was doing hard physical labor. All of those times were when she was little, outside on hot summer days, her mom planting flowers, and explaining to her daughter what they meant and why she planted them.

Presley sorted through the variety of seeds available to the students, and selected several. Peonies for healing, rosemary for remembrance, iris for inspiration, lily of the valley for change, and peppermint for warmth. They would all look awful together, but who really cared? Only Presley would pay attention to these plants, and they meant something to her.