Freesia.
I grew a few this year.
On my birthday, I picked a few flowers from the garden and place them next to my bed.
As you might recall, I wallowed about in misdirection that day, fending off IEED (improvised emotional explosive devices) from the dementors. I did take a nap in the quiet. The smell of freesia, so gossamer, nearly vibrated in the room. There's a sweetness to freesia that almost hits the same places in your head as wasabi, only it is kiss instead of a jolt. I see I have one more blossom on its way in. Should be peaking about the time I get back from Palm Springs.
Janet does enjoy the garden, so all that work is not in vain. The other morning, we ate scrambled eggs outside while the cats either sunned themselves or chased one another around. She mentions the flowers every time she looks out the front door. So, not all in vain. I hope I can get her to water while I am gone as there are some seedlings and recent transplants that need watering every day.
Okay, Sunday now ...
And I might not be very interesting.
That said, it is a beautiful night here in Palm Springs at 11:00 pm. So damn and lovely quiet with only crickets for company. K and her pup went to bed early and I am doing a version of my usual Sunday evening of working and staying up too late. But it is a different, and relaxing, setting. It is so wonderful to be here.
So back to working and Prime Suspect.
And to all a good night.
And all I actually have to offer as a writer, is my version of life. — Anne Lamott
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