by Van ©2022
		Chapter 3

Meanwhile, in the Prototype/Generic Pillory & Stocks Chamber of The Storage Building...

---

Iris' big brown eyes were agonizingly pitiful and her lips pursed in a heartbreaking pout as she glowered at her smiling/gloating big sister.  "I'm telling Mother," she warned.

"Good," Amy grinned.  "We'll do it together.  I'll handle the simple description and you provide the color.  Now, do as you're told.  You don't want to ruin Scotti's 'research' program, do you?"

Green eyes wide and blinking (again) Scotti watched with Profound Disapproval as Amy bullied her little sister, but there was nothing she could do to intervene.  After all, she was inescapably box-tied with coffee-stained and conditioned cotton clothesline and tethered by the neck with a length of the same soft, pliant, and strong braided rope to an iron ring set in the wall of their current location: the first storeroom of The Storage Building.

Granted, she wasn't gagged, so Scotti could lodge a strong verbal protest on Iris' behalf and rain scorn and rebuke down upon Amy's smiling/gloating person, but even though Scotti was new around here and had only just met Amy yesterday, she already knew (or strongly suspected) that a lot more than simple bullying was going on around here.  The sister-sister dynamic was more than simply Amy dominating Iris.  There was an element of mutual play involved.  Best to wait and see how all of this unfolds, she decided... that and continue presenting an aura of bound and tethered Profound Disapproval.  Support her ex-roommate and friend?  Yes.  Ruin what was going on?  No way!  It was way too interesting and entertaining—from a writer's perspective, of course.

Iris shifted her pathetic gaze from Amy to Scotti... back to her big sister... heaved a sigh... and undressed, as ordered.  That is, she unlaced and pulled off her work-boots... followed by her wool socks... unzipped and pulled down her jeans and stepped free... unbuttoned and removed her blue denim work-shirt... then stripped off the underlying tank-top, bra, and panties... and was naked—pathetic, angry, and naked.

Once again, Scotti was presented with the spectacle of Iris' fair-skinned, slender, athletic figure and her small breasts.  Actually, Iris' boobs weren't all that small, but they were smaller than Scotti's, also more conical and less full.

"Don't disappoint Mother," Amy chuckled, pointing at the jumble of clothes littering the storeroom's concrete floor.

Iris heaved a tragic sigh, then stuffed her socks in her boots, neatly folded everything else, and made an orderly stack in the nearest corner, next to the now slightly depleted messenger bag that had been the source of Scotti's box-tie and leash ropes.

Meanwhile, Amy had strolled to the pillory, produced her key-ring and unlocked the padlock, released the hasp, and lifted the top restraining timber.  The two timbers now formed something like a 45º angle, and the two former wrist-openings and single neck-opening spaced along the timbers now formed four half-wrist-openings and two half-neck-openings.

Iris heaved yet another tragic sigh—and Scotti had to admit that what was transpiring was undeniably tragic—then stomped (padded) to the appropriate spot, leaned forward, and carefully settled her neck and wrists into the appropriate half-openings of the lower timber.  Then, Amy slowly, carefully lowered the top timber, trapping her little sister in place!

Scotti's eye muscles were getting sore from all the blinking she'd been doing recently, but she managed a few more anyway.  She had to express her amazement/horror somehow.  Iris was bent at the waist, but it wasn't a deep bow and her predicament didn't appear to be all that uncomfortable... for now.  But that was the point of the pillory.  It wasn't uncomfortable until time passed, then it became increasingly so.

Amy secured the hasp, clicked the padlock closed, then took a step back, careful not to block Scotti's view.  "Okay, commence Courtesy Struggle," she commanded.

"Huh?" Scotti inquired.

"It's traditional for a restrained damsel to demonstrate the efficacy of her bondage," Amy explained, "in order to confirm that the villainess has done her job with competence and due diligence."

"It's polite," Iris agreed as she tugged on her wrists and squirmed, straining to lift the heavy, padlocked top timber and free herself.  Needless to say, that was not going to happen.

"One down," Amy said happily, gazing at her sister, then shifted her predatory smile to Scotti, "and one to go."

"Huh?" Scotti inquired as Amy strolled in her direction, then watched as Amy untied her leash from the iron ring and dragged (led) her towards the stocks, the other prototype DuPont Special Catalog item in the chamber.   "Oh!"  Amy had plunked her down on the stool and was unlacing and removing her brown sneakers... followed by her socks!  Now involuntarily barefoot, Scotti watched as Amy unlocked and removed the stocks' padlock, released its hasp, and lifted the top timber.  She blinked in horror at the semi-circular cavities waiting to imprison her ankles.

"Well?" Amy politely inquired.

Blinking (of course) and blushing, Scotti tentatively lifted her right foot... straightened her leg... and gingerly settled her right ankle into the right half-opening.  It fit her anatomy to perfection, was set at just the right angle, and there were no sharp edges.  She did the same with her left foot, leg, and ankle... then Amy lowered the top timber, secured the hasp, then the padlock... and things were still comfortable.  The device really was well designed and skillfully crafted.

Also, Scotti could no longer see her feet!  The top trapping timber was too tall.  She knew they were still there, of course... naked, pink, and vulnerable... but she couldn't see them.  She sat tall and flexed her feet, straining to see the tips of her toes... but couldn't.  This was the sort of thing she needed, the data she hoped to gather from her "research."  She made a careful mental note: If the top timber is tall enough, your feet become invisible.

Both DuPont sisters were gazing at Scotti expectantly.

Oh yeah, Courtesy Struggle, Scotti remembered, then wiggled her unseen toes and tried lifting her concealed feet.  She might as well be trying to leg-lift Tadgh, her trusty-but-not-rusty Subaru Crosstrek.  The stocks didn't budge.  The hinges and hasp didn't even rattle or shake.  The stocks were too heavy and tightly constructed.  There was no denying that the DuPonts did exceptional work.

Amy and Iris watched the show (although Iris' view was somewhat restricted by the pillory).  Finally, Scotti decided she'd done enough struggling and made her closing statement.  "I'm stuck."

"Adorable," Amy sighed in a near whisper.

Iris rolled her eyes, but continued her Tragic Pout.  After all, Scotti was box-tied with her bare feet confined in Mother's prototype stocks, whereas Iris' naked everything was trapped in the prototype pillory.  She had the most to complain about (and the most on display, by far).

"Well," Amy announced, "things to do.  Later."  And with that, she waved (wiggling her fingers in a very irritating manner), spun on her booted heels, strolled through the open door, closed said door behind her, and (from the sound of it) clicked the padlock closed, locking the prisoners in the storage/display room.  As the inside walls were only as high as the lower rafters and there were long narrow windows on both sides of the building, there was still plenty of light.  The door to the corridor being open or closed had very little impact on the illumination issue.

Scotti resumed blinking.  She also bit her lower lip in frustration and anguish.

Isis, on the other hand, glowered at the back of the closed and locked door.  "You better run!" she shouted.

The prisoners heard Amy's laughing soprano voice fade into the distance... followed by the slamming of the door to the outside at the far end of the corridor.
Several seconds passed... then Scotti and Iris heaved simultaneous sighs.

Several additional seconds passed before Scotti spoke.  "You might have warned me that insanity runs in your family," the prisoner-of-the-stocks said dryly.

Iris's lips curled in a sad, somewhat sheepish smile.  "Sorry."

Scotti squirmed in her inescapable-yet-comfortable box-tie, then heaved another sigh.  At least I'm not blinking anymore, she mused.  And speaking of musing, with Iris naked and leaning forward and locked in the pillory like that... her boobs were...  What's the word?  Pendulous?  That's it... pendulous.  Also, thanks to the angle of Iris' pillory and Scotti's stocks, while Isis could see Scotti, it was mostly with her peripheral vision, whereas Scotti's view of her ex-roommate, friend, and DuPont Compound Denizen was more-or-less unimpeded (one of the few things about her box-tied and stocks-bound predicament that was unimpeded).

Anyway, Scotti continued, pendulous... and when she tugs on her wrists or swings her hips, her boobs actually sway.  And are her nipples... erect... or maybe semi-erect?  Maybe.  Just imagine what my boobs would look like in that position.  They're bigger.  She blinked a couple of times, then resolved to start thinking about something else... but what?  There was always the issue of time, which was alarming.  "She isn't going to leave us in here all afternoon," Scotti demanded, "is she?"

"If she does," Iris huffed, "I will tell Mother."

"I should think so," Scotti said primly.

They both heaved simultaneous sighs... and settled in to wait... see also languish.

Scotti and Iris chatted a little, but not about anything substantial.  And then, something in the neighborhood to an hour later... the Prisoners of The Storage Building heard arguing voices somewhere on the far side of the closed and padlocked door... and they were growing louder.

"They're having fun," Amy's voice whined.

"Hah!  I thought you were tho one with the better judgement, young lady."  That was Sybil.

Scotti started blinking again.  Sybil!

The padlock on the corridor side of the door rattled and clicked, the door opened, and Amy and her mother were standing in the threshold.  Amy was somewhat chagrined and—Scotti blinked in surprise—was also unmistakably blushing.  Sybil, on the other hand, was frowning with the exact same disappointed expression Iris had worn earlier when the youngest DuPont realized her big sister expected her to strip and allow herself to be locked in the pillory, right down to the exact same little twisted pout.  Not surprising, I suppose, Scotti thought.  They are mother and daughter.

"Oh, Mother!" Iris sighed.  "Thank goodness!  My neck is so sore!"

Scotti barely managed to control the smile threatening to curl her lips.  Iris was really hamming it up.

"Don't be a baby," Amy growled, "you baby!"

"You be quiet!" Sybil ordered, glaring at Amy, then pointed an imperious finger in her youngest daughter's naked and pillory-restrained direction.  "Release her!"

Amy rolled her eyes and frowned as she stepped forward to fulfill the Maternal Mandate.  Obviously, she wasn't buying Iris' innocent martyr act (and Scotti was pretty sure Sybil wasn't buying it either, not really).

One unlocked padlock, released hasp, and lifted top-timber later... and Iris eased her neck and wrists from the pillory, winced, sighed, groaned, and shuddered with relief.  It was truly pathetic (and entertaining).  Then, Iris' boobs flattened as she lifted her arms, reached for the rafters, and did a full-body stretch.  They (the boobs) then oscillated (flopped) when she lowered her arms and started combing her white fingers through her short, tousled, dark brown hair—not that Scotti was actually watching or anything.

"Thank you, Mother," Iris beamed, then padded to the maternal unit in question... and they embraced and kissed.

"Gag me with a spoon," Amy muttered under her breath.  She was not happy.

Scotti smiled.  She couldn't help it.

"Get dressed," Sybil told her youngest daughter.  "And as for you, young lady..."  She was addressing Amy, of course.  "Strip and take her place."

"Mother!" Amy complained.

Iris smiled (and stuck out her tongue at her big sister when her mother wasn't looking).

Scotti continued smiling.   It would appear that, like her daughters, Sybil wasn't above participating in Special Catalog shenanigans.  Then, Scotti realized she was still box-tied and locked in the stocks.  So... how should I play this? she pondered.  She caught Iris eye, and her former roommate smiled and winked.  Scotti smiled back.  Why not?  Scottie quickly composed herself, then heaved a sigh of Truly Tragic proportions.  "W-what about me?" she inquired in a forlorn whimper.

"Oh, you poor dear," Sybil cooed, hurried to Scotti, stooped, and gave her box-tied upper body a warm hug... followed by a kiss on the forehead.  "Here, let me take care of you."  She pulled a key-ring from her jeans, unlocked the stocks, and freed Scotti's ankles.

I wonder if Iris also has keys to all the good stuff? Scotti wondered.  Probably.

Meanwhile, Sybil was pulling Scotti's socks onto her feet... then slipping her trail-runners on over the socks and lacing them tight.  "There," she grinned.  "All better."

Scotti gave her box-tie a weak struggle.  Not quite all better, she mentally noted.

Meanwhile, the oldest DuPont sister had removed, folded, and neatly stacked her clothes while the youngest sister donned hers.  Soon, with respect to attire, their conditions were reversed.  That is, Amy was now the one that was naked (and scowling) and Iris would soon be fully clothed, once she finished lacing up her work-boots.

Sybil stood (towering to her full six feet of statuesque beauty), strolled to Amy, took her by the ear—"Ow-ow-ow-ow!  Mother!"—and dragged her to the pillory.  "I was gonna do it," Amy pouted.

"Silence!" Sybil barked, then lifted the top timber.

Amy settled her wrists and neck in the lower openings without prompting.  Her scowl remained unchanged, except that she was now staring daggers at her happily smiling little sister.  "This is all your fault," she growled as her mother lowered the top timber, imprisoning her in the pillory, then secured the hasp and padlock.  Click!

"No it's not," Iris objected (still smiling), "but if it makes you feel better, sure, why not?  It's all my fault."

As best she could, Amy shifted her glowering, pillory-limited gaze to Scotti, who was still sitting on the stool half of the stocks-and-stool prototype.  "Not me!" Scotti blurted.  "I didn't do anything.  I'm new around here."

"Adorable," Sybil sighed.

It had been a whisper, but Scotti heard.  Not you too! she mentally groused.  Scotti didn't want to be adorable.  She was a serious writer!  Writers aren't adorable!

Meanwhile, Sybil was strolling towards the open door.  "I'll tell you when she should be released," she said, apparently addressing Iris and in the process giving her a full and undeniable role in her big sister's punishment.

"Yes, Mother!" Iris responded (ever the sweet and obedient daughter).

"Mother!" Amy complained, executing a belated Courtesy Struggle and eloquently expressing her naked frustration, but Mother was gone!  "Dammit!" the frustrated naked prisoner muttered.

Scotti noted the complex oscillations Amy's attempted-escape/pillory-evaluation efforts imparted to her pendulous breasts as the angry brunette stamped her feet, twisted her hips, and tugged on her trapped wrists.  Amy's boobs were a little larger than her little sister's... and possibly on par with Scotti's.  The box-tied ginger wasn't entirely sure.

Meanwhile, Iris had strolled over to Scotti, grabbed the end of her rope leash (which the box-tied captive had forgotten was still dangling around her neck), and was now dragging her to her feet (meaning helping her stand).  "C'mon," the only totally free person remaining in the room said, then led Scotti to the pillory and its glowering, still struggling, and very unhappy naked prisoner.

"I am so going to do something hellaciously horrible to both of you for this," Amy promised.

"What did I do?" Scotti demanded.

"Oh, put a sock in it," Iris laughed, addressing her sister.  She dropped Scotti's leash, scampered to Amy's neatly folded and stacked clothes, and scampered back with one of her socks.  "Here, I'll help."

Scotti watched with shock (and amusement) as Iris stuffed the sock in question into her big sister's outraged mouth.

"Mrmfrrmph!" Amy objected, but could do nothing significant to impede the stuffing process.  After all, her head was not exactly a moving target.  "Mrrrmpfh!"  The sock filled Amy's mouth to capacity, and she immediately began trying to force it out... but Iris was too quick for her.  She reached into her right back pocket, whipped out a bandana (in a very pretty shade of plum, in the traditional white semi-floral stylized print), rapidly folded it into a narrow strip, reinserted what small portion of the sock Amy had managed to expel, then tied the bandana as a tight cleave-gag, centering it over the sock stuffing and tying it at the nape of Amy's neck, under her tousled brown hair.  "MrrrMMMFH!" Amy objected, stamping her feet (and shaking her breasts).

"Hey," Iris chuckled, "it was either the sock or your panties, but who says 'Put your panties in it?'  'Sock' is traditional."

Scotti was speechless.  She watched as Iris strolled to the canvas messenger bag, reached inside, and returned with two small-to-medium coils of coffee-stained, conditioned, cotton clothesline, the same rope binding Scotti in her first-ever box-tie.  Scotti continued watching as Iris knelt and tied her big sister's ankles together, cinching the rope several times between her ankles and tying a final knot, also between.  Next, the grinning semi-Goth used the same technique to tie her big sister's legs together, around her lower thighs and just above her knees.

Scotti thought that maybe she should say something, either in Amy's defense, or possibly to provide a few words of encouragement.  She was still undecided when Iris (still smiling) finished her binding chores, stood next to her staring, wide-eyed, ginger ex-roommate, and beamed a satisfied smile.

"Mrrrrrrf!"  Amy was unhappy, meaning still unhappy.  In fact, it was obvious she was furious... as well as naked, locked in the pillory, quite effectively gagged, and ankle and knee-bound.  (Either that or she was a very good actress.)  She squirmed and twisted, simultaneously and rather eloquently expressing both her intense disapproval of the situation and her total helplessness.

Scotti turned her head and whispered in Iris' ear.  "Aren't you afraid she's gonna get you back?"

Iris shrugged.  "We stopped keeping track of who owes who payback for what a long time ago."  She then draped an arm across Scotti's rope-bound-and-yoked shoulders and gave her a sideways hug.  "Sorry you're kinda caught in the side-blast, but you know... breaking eggs and omelets?  I suppose it's inevitable."

Meanwhile, Amy continued struggling and mewling—"Mrrr!"—to no effect.

"All the same..." Scotti said, then nodded at Iris (and her pendulous boobs), "this is pretty mean."

"Could be worse," Iris purred.  Right arm still draped across Scotti's shoulders, she pointed up at the rafters.  "See the iron ring?"

Scotti looked up.  'Uh huh."  The ring in question was dangling from an eye-bolt, was about 2" in diameter, and just happened to be positioned over Amy's butt.

"If I wanted to be mean," Iris continued, "I'd take a turn or two of rope around her waist, pass it through her crotch and between her pussy-lips, up and through the ring, pull out all the slack, until her heels were off the ground, then tie it off there."  She pointed to a second iron ring embedded in the wall directly behind the pillory.  "That gives her the choice of either riding the rope... or standing up on tippytoe.  Understand?"

"Eep!" Scotti nodded.  She'd meant to say "Yes," but what came out was "Eep!"

"I could use clothesline," Iris added, "but hemp is better.  Less stretch."

Scotti nodded again, too nervous to attempt to say anything.

"Even more mean would be to put a pair of clover-clamps on her nipples and link them to her big-toes with something like nylon cord, or possibly heavy fishing line.  And I'm talkin' tight, of course.  Fiddle-string tight!  You know what clover-clamps are?"

Scotti nodded yet again (somewhat frantically).  Actually she did know what clover-clamps were: spring-loaded steel clamps that self-tighten under pressure.  She also knew that fiddle-strings are very tight indeed!

"We've never done that to each other, of course," Iris stated, "either the crotch-rope-semi-suspension torture or the nipple-clamps-to-big-toes atrocity... but it would be mean, don't ya think?"

Scotti nodded frantically.  Then, she frowned.  But if they've never done the crotch-rope-semi-suspension or the nipple-clamps-to-toes things to each other, she wondered, why are the rings there?  And the iron rings were definitely there.

"Let's get something cool to drink," Iris suggested, took a firm grip on the end of Scotti's leash, and led her from the chamber.

Scotti's last view of "poor" Amy was from the corridor.  The naked, gagged, ankle-bound, and knee-bound captive-of-the-pillory was not happy.  Not even a little.

Then, Iris closed the door, secured the padlock—Click!—and with Scotti's leash still in her hand, led her away, towards the exterior door at the far end of the building.

Scotti's thoughts were of Amy, angry and waiting to be released.  And just like I couldn't see my toes and bare feet when I was locked in the stocks, Scotti realized, Amy can't see her bare anything while locked in the pillory... other than her useless hands.  And anybody standing behind her could be getting ready to do anything to her, and she wouldn't know anything about it 'til it happened!

And what about the unknown contents of the other padlocked rooms they were presently passing?  Who knows what other Special Catalog Items were lurking within, biding their time and patiently waiting to entrap poor, innocent Scotti Hunter?

The rest of the afternoon was relatively uneventful.  Iris gave Scotti a detailed tour of the gardens... meaning all the gardens... even the plantings around the trail down the hillside to the pond/swimming-hole.  And botany major that she was, Iris knew the names (common and scientific) of all the plants, as well as their geographic origins.  She also lectured Scotti on the various plants she could have used in the various beds that would have been attractive but were considered too aggressive and would have required too much work to keep under control.

Scotti let most of the lecture pass in one ear and out the other (especially the scientific names), but both enjoyed and admired the layout of the beds.  Iris had confined the more colorful foreign annuals to flower-boxes and hanging baskets, and had used a sweeping palette of mostly native perennials in large groupings that complemented each other and the scale of the landscape.  Scotti favorably compared Iris' efforts to Monet's famous garden at Giverny, France, and her friend blushed and thanked her.  It was an exaggeration, of course, but the DuPont Gardens were, in fact, marvelous, and Iris should feel proud.

And oh-by-the-way.  They were halfway through the tour when it occurred to Scotti that she was still box-tied and leashed.  Obviously, a standard box-tie, properly applied, was something you could call comfortable.  Who knew?  Anyway, they'd finished touring all the front gardens and were halfway through the flowerbeds on the far side of the main house when Scotti decided to bring up the topic of regaining the use of her upper body.

"Uh, Iris?"

"Yes?"

"I think I'm done doing research for the day."

Iris grinned.  "Really?  You don't want the rest of the tour?"

Scotti responded with an even stare.

"Okay," Iris laughed, and started dismantling Scotti's box-tie.  "I reserve the right to assist in your research efforts on future occasions," she stated as the knots and/or hitches loosened, the rope slithered (in that strange, vibratory manner Scotti had noted earlier), and the tight bands melted away.  "At random times when you least expect it, of course."

"Yeah, right," Scotti chuckled.  The last of the box-tie was untied, she was rubbing her wrists (even though they didn't need it), and Iris was neatly and deftly coiling and wrapping the long length of coffee-stained clothesline with obvious experience.  She (Iris) was also grinning in what might be a mischievous manner.  "Wait," Scotti blurted, "you're serious."

"Deadly," Iris confirmed (still grinning).  "You might as well get used to it.  At some point Amy is gonna pounce on you to take unspeakable revenge on your freckled and ginger person for your role in Mother sentencing her to pillory punishment."

"My role?" Scotti demanded.  "I was tied up!"

"You watched," Iris responded.

Scotti pursed her lips... then heaved a sigh.  It was a fair cop.  She had watched.

"It's gonna happen," Iris continued, "and will almost certainly happen again and again, whenever Amy feels the need for revenge for something.  And my doing it too will help you get used to it."

"Just to be clear," Scotti intoned, "what exactly is this 'it' you're going to help me get used to."

"Getting pounced upon and tied up, of course," Iris answered.

Scotti was unamused.  "Pounced upon?"

"Well, not really," Iris shrugged.  "Any 'pouncing' will be strictly stylized, more of the 'tag you're it' variety than an actual physical assault."

"Thank goodness for small favors," Scotti drawled.  "I was promised I'd have plenty of time to write, remember?"

"Oh, you will!" Iris chuckled.  "I mean it," she added, noting Scotti's skeptical pout.  "But you still need to do research, am I right?"

Scotti stared at her grinning friend.  "Okay, you're right, but what did you mean by random?"

Iris smile widened.  "Unpredicted?  Unexpected?  Willy-nilly?  See also adventitious?"  She frowned.  "Did I say that right?  Ad-ven-tish-us?"

Scotti ignored the question, but her frown took a wry twist towards becoming a smile.  "I'll insist on payback.  Will you help me with that?"

"Of course!" Iris gushed.  "I'll already be helping by pouncing on you and tying you up so you'll gain experience and be prepared, so... of course!"

"I mean will you help me pounce on Amy and tie her up."

Iris frowned.  "Two against one?  That isn't very sporting."

Scotti rolled her eyes, then looked her ex-roommate and Goth-adjacent friend up and down... from her black work-boots to her semi-tousled dark-brown hair, big brown eyes, and smiling lips.  "I suppose I'll have to start pouncing on you as well... to gain experience and be prepared."

"You can try," Iris purred, then spun on her booted heels and took a step, obviously intending to continue the tour.  The coiled ex-box-tie rope was in her right hand and the end of Scotti's rope leash was in her left—but not for long.

Smiling her first real smile since being untied, Scotti had a firm grip on the middle of the leash with her right hand and she gave it a firm jerk.

"Ow!" Iris complained, fluttering her left hand and flexing her fingers in distress.  "Were you actually trying to give me a rope burn?" she huffed.

"Did you actually forget I was still wearing a rope collar?" Scotti countered as she untied the bowline securing said collar, "or did you intend to lead me around for the rest of the day... like a poodle going for walkies?"  She then tossed the untied leash rope to her once again smiling friend.

"Sorry about that," Iris said as she passed the doubled leash-rope through one end of the former-box-tie bundle, tied a quick-release knot, then slung the resulting bandoleer over her head and across her body.  "But you'd be an Irish Setter or a red Golden Retriever, not a poodle... although I have seen a couple of red poodles.  Anyway, on with the tour!"

"On with the tour," Scotti agreed.  She had a lot to think about, but for the moment she decided to concentrate her attention on Iris' flowers.  The plantings really were pretty.