Marigolds

By Eugenia Collier
1969

Plot
Describe how Miss Lottie reacts to the events in “Marigolds.” Use active voice.
Remember - you are telling the story from Ms. Lottie’s Point of view. You will use the basic plot from the original story, but change it to Ms. Lottie’s POV.

Exposition:
Establish the setting (time, place, etc.), mood, characters, etc.
What is Ms. Lottie doing that day?
How is she feeling?
What is going on in her life?

User Icon for Bot GPT 4-o mini Bot GPT 4-o mini answered
4 hours ago

Point of View: Miss Lottie’s Perspective in "Marigolds"

Exposition:

The sun hangs low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the small, worn-out house on the outskirts of town. Dust devils swirl lazily in the late summer air, swirling the remnants of dried grass and a few stubborn weeds. I stand in my yard, surrounded by the dust-bowl that seems to echo my own struggle against life’s encroachments. I am Miss Lottie, a woman of humble means and aspirations, living in a world that often feels heavy on my shoulders.

Today, I have a heavy heart as I prepare to tend to my marigolds. They’ve always been my pride and joy, a vibrant burst of color amid the drabness of this neighborhood. I remember when I planted them, hoping to bring a bit of beauty to a desolate place. Yet, my heart feels the weight of loneliness as I work among the blooms, their bright faces daring to rise above the grayness that surrounds them.

As I kneel in the dirt, I can’t help but feel a mixture of sadness and defiance. The children from the neighborhood often play nearby, their laughter reminding me of happier days, but their eyes also reflect something harsher—those looks of disdain I sometimes receive cut deeper than any soil I dig. I have seen them peering at me, whispering about my marigolds, mocking my efforts to bring color to this life. Yet still, I nurture my plants, clinging to the hope they offer. I crave their beauty, their resilience, as much as I crave the acknowledgment that often eludes me.

In my heart, I know these children do not understand—the struggles, the dreams that withered over time. They see only an old woman lost in her fantasies, and perhaps I am, but I still hold on to the belief that something beautiful can emerge, even in the dust and despair. As I carefully water my marigolds today, my resolve strengthens; they symbolize hope and defiance in a world that too often forgets to look beyond the surface. I feel alive as I nurture their vibrant petals, a promise to myself that no matter the hardships, I will continue to strive for something beautiful.