I can’t smell so flowers don’t resonate with me. As a child I was bombarded by allergies when pollen kicked up a storm on Long Island. After I had surgery for a deviated septum, the doctor had promised me that my nose would come alive. He proceeded to place a flask of ammonia by nostrils to see if I would react. The fumes hit me but I was never sure if it was because it made my eyes water. Food, perfume, and excrement refused to be acknowledged by my brain. When I complained to the doctor, he said my nostrils were too small to absorb smells. After admiring the beauty of a bird of paradise, rose or bougainvillea, I am bereft. I pretend to detect an odor when I am confronted with flowers given by dinner guests. But with my compromised hearing, I can switch up my flowerless world with my gluten free flourless desserts.