
                         THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
                 Copyright (c) 1994, Landmark Communications, Inc.

DATE: THURSDAY, June 9, 1994                    TAG: 9406090749 
SECTION: LOCAL                     PAGE: D4    EDITION: FINAL  
SOURCE: BY GUY FRIDDELL, STAFF WRITER 
DATELINE: 940609                                 LENGTH: Medium

VERNETTA BALL, LONGTIME FLORIST IN NORFOLK, DIES

{LEAD} ``Say it with flowers'' is an old-time slogan for florists; and the ``flower lady,'' the presiding sprite in Cromwell Flowers shop in a basement off Granby Street in Norfolk, said a great deal, quietly, as she wrapped flowers for purchasers for nearly four decades.

Vernetta Vanderberry Ball, 91, died Tuesday. Her customers - friends, really - will be remembering her at a memorial service June 21 at 1 p.m. at Coleman Place Presbyterian Church in Norfolk.

{REST} A steady patron, chef Monroe Duncan, recalled the summer days he would step down from the heat of the blazing sun onto the earthen floor of the cool stone basement beneath the white country house. As his eyes became used to the dim light, he would see her.

``She was a sweetheart,'' he said. ``Her snow-white hair, piled atop her head, had been golden. It turned white as she waited for her three sons to return from abroad in World War II.

She retired in 1986 and lived with her daughter, Blanche Miller, in Kill Devil Hills. For the service, there will be, of course, flowers.

``Say it with flowers'' is an old-time slogan for florists; and the ``flower lady,'' the presiding sprite in Cromwell Flowers shop in a basement off Granby Street in Norfolk, said a great deal, quietly, as she wrapped flowers for purchasers for nearly four decades.

Vernetta Vanderberry Ball, 91, died Tuesday. Her customers - friends, really - will be remembering her at a memorial service June 21 at 1 p.m. at Coleman Place Presbyterian Church in Norfolk.

A steady patron, chef Monroe Duncan, recalled the summer days he would step down from the heat of the blazing sun onto the earthen floor of the cool stone basement beneath the white country house. As his eyes became used to the dim light, he would see her.

``She was a sweetheart,'' he said. ``Her snow-white hair, piled atop her head, had been golden. It turned white as she waited for her three sons to return from abroad in World War II.

She retired in 1986 and lived with her daughter, Blanche Miller, in Kill Devil Hills. For the service, there will be, of course, flowers.

{KEYWORDS} DEATH OBITUARY

by CNB