i went out walking in the late morning drizzle, careful to hop over the muddy lakes on the pavement. as i crossed the old yard i saw in a large puddle three magnolia petals floating, mud-smeared, slightly withered, murky droplets of rain still rolling on them. i think i understand lin daiyu demurring at the suggestion of tipping fallen flowers into water, and her concern that the purity of flowers not be contaminated. it is in a way also a rejection of watery ophelia deaths.