Friday flower No. 16
Zinnia grown from a bag of second- and third-generation seeds my mom kept from her own garden.
Zinnia grown from a bag of second- and third-generation seeds my mom kept from her own garden.
If I could pick a lesser superpower to have, it would be the ability to identify flowers. [Project 365]
If I told you that I lived a day that included perfect weather, blue skies with heavy white clouds, time spent on a blanket in the park with friends, LARPers, a giant boa constrictor named Natasha, adorable border collies chasing butterflies, delectable fat daschunds trotting along, sweet pitbull mixes, and free cupcakes, you probably wouldn’t believe me. But it happened. [Project 365]
I had a moment to myself in the wee hours of Monday morning, when I went outside and sat in the driveway of my parents’ place and listened to the rising symphony of insects and night birds as they called to each other from the shadows. I grew up in the country but I never quite got used to the country dark. Country dark is dark. Impenetrable and vast. It was weird at first but…
… has a lot to do with the fact that most houses come with attached plots of land on which you can pretend to be a conductor coaxing the most entrancing floral notes out of the earth: My mom grows flowers so gorgeous that I don’t even need Photoshop. Truly. If I got even a fraction of her and my grandmother’s green thumbs, I will cultivate a jungle before all is said and done.
I am on the balcony, laptop pulsing heat onto my uncovered legs, nose stuffy from a summer stress cold, red wine (Malbec) in a Graceland mug on the window ledge behind me, three citronella candles and a mosquito coil flickering around me, yet I see the mosquitoes in silhouette against my screen, darting here and there and up and down and, occasionally, settling on a patch of skin still enough to penetrate and make me…
From the local cultural staple known as Jerry’s Sno Cones (I’ve searched and searched for the Great Balls of Fire clip that features Jerry’s to no avail). After suffering the crushing ego blow one feels when one’s car’s front undercarriage scrapes the curb in front of a tittering crowd, AY-D and I sheepishly ordered a Rainbow Supreme and a White Wedding Surpreme, respectively. We immediately launched into brain-freeze mode and lodged our tongues in the…
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