Try to imagine a good strong breeze blowing, and a little hint of rosemary in the air. And some big crows wheeling overhead, and a few biker pilgs zipping by. And two dogs, newly washed, hunting mice and rolling in stinky things.
When we get back up the street Paddy makes us a drink and I water the flowers. The roses are blooming beautifully, even among the wreckage. The sky picks up the same pink, and the horizons go all water-colory. Tomorrow, my daughter Libby will be here to see it too! Yippee!
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