Like The Queen
Whatever happens to strike my fancy, but surely some sort of fiber content.


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Tuesday, May 06, 2003  

In the garden this week are the dawnings of the May glory. The iris are so heavy they are falling over. Enormous yellow and purple blossoms stand or tumble like drunken soldiers behind and inside the rose beds. Some heavy old gold iris are opening for the first time and the fringe of the beautiful bi-color purple and white ones is thicker than ever before. From the roses, Therese Bugnet was my first gift - fragrant pink petals fluttering in their double ring. Othello, too, has presented me with his first blossom and the tiny pink rose which Ted’s Grandmother carried in her wedding bouquet 100 years ago has sprinkled itself against the corner of the house. Abraham Darby will open this week and by the weekend I believe the first of the peonies will reveal their secret golden centers. And beneath the dogwood a ruffled skirt of lavender colored azaleas shimmers in twilight’s slate gray coolness. How wonderful there will be guests in the house to witness this unfolding.

And so, O Best Beloved, I’m going to be off the air for a while. A combination of circumstances, all of them wonderful, will leave me silent and these pages empty. I will return, though, to spin again, the musings and meanderings, when the full moon recovers.

posted by Bess | 6:27 AM