Last Friday in Dripping Springs, I stopped in a café. There were roses hanging from the ceiling, bouquets of dead, long-stem roses. As I stood near the counter waiting, music started to play—the score from Harry Potter. The roses started to sway, as though they had magically come to life.

The air conditioner vent was near them, the air blowing the bouquets.

I asked the cashier if it would be alright if I took some pictures of the roses. She said sure. In fact she seemed relieved I wasn’t going to complain about how long the food was taking. So I went in the drizzle to the car, got my camera, and took the pictures you see here.