He said, "Oh, Mary, contrary, how does your garden grow?

Norway sat up. Another day meant another flower, if he knew what he was thinking at all. For years, the "flower collection" had been blooming- taking seeds from different plants and flowers he had been finding and planting them created it- and he wanted to keep it growing.

Okay, bad joke.

But still, Norway wanted nothing more than for the gardens to expand and be made up of more and more beautiful flowers. But he knew there were some he wanted to get rid of.

The sad part was, he couldn't.

He would never be able to.

"Come with me, and you'll be the seventh maid in a row,"

Iceland woke up in the morning. The room was cold and freezing; Denmark must've taken 'Iceland' a bit too literally and changed the air settings. It almost made him want to chuckle. They always got the name wrong.

Greenland was cold. Iceland was warm.

He knew an American who knew that- a fourth grade student, in fact. It pleased him, and he praised the girl, then going on his way.

He opened the window and looked out of it. Flowers upon flowers upon flowers. Small sections of them, big and small and all different. He didn't even know the neighbors, and yet he praised them mentally for giving him something amazing to look at.

Maybe he would meet them one day.