"The Chrysanthemums," by John Steinbeck, is about a thirty-five yea-old woman that is pining for attention and something different in her life--something new and exciting apart from her farm wife life. She is working in her garden when her husband comes and says that he can sell his steers and so, to celebrate, he's taking her out for a night on the town. He jokes that he will take her to the fights, but he know she wouldn't like that. The story then turns back to this woman with “planting hands” and it describes how she goes about growing her famous chrysanthemums with the 10-inch blooms. Then she sees a wagon coming up from the road and it stops at her gate. She gets up and talks to the man and he wants her to let him fix things. She is opposed at first, and then he talks about her flowers and she changes her mind and lets him fix her pot because they connected. She comments on how she would like to travel and fix things like him. He says a woman couldn’t do it and that it just wasn’t the life for a woman. She thinks she is strong. He lies to her and tells her that a lady down the road wants some chrysanthemums and so she gives him some of her shoots in a planting pot and he leaves. She gets ready to go out that night, and as they drive down the road, she sees her shoots and the sand they were in on the side of the road. She asks her husband about the fights and whether or not women ever go. She talks about the blood involved, then decides she wouldn’t like the fights.
     I’m not quite sure what I think about this story. It was kind of interesting to read—especially the part when the man in the wagon came and started talking because I thought there could possibly be some conflict, but then there wasn’t really. It wasn’t until upon further contemplation that I grasped what Steinbeck was trying to convey, but I still don’t see the point of writing this story, and I don’t see the point in conveying what Steinbeck conveyed.

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