Last night, my father and I took a walk around our neighborhood. About halfway around the block, I saw a clump of yellow wildflowers that were very pretty. I picked one and carried it the rest of the way home to identify it. It was an evening primrose. This morning, my father wakes me up and asks me why I left all those flowers on our doorstep. "What are you talking about? I put my flower in a glass in the kitchen," I tell him. "Come and see for yourself," he says. I go downstairs and open the front door. There on the step are six evening primroses. I have no idea who left them there. I have been smiling all day.