Sunday, August 30, 2020

Talking to Myself Thirty-Seven


Our Zinnia Garden, photo by Janet Wyatt 

Talking to Myself Thirty-Seven August 30, 2020


Zinnia time again, thanks to Janet.

How I wanted something we planted

to grow. The perennials fought their way

to bloom: daffodils, a few determined

crocuses, daylilies, the small sunflowers,

the hydrangea bush, and the forsythia,

but I missed my zinnias. Janet egged

me on, and we ordered Benares giants,

all colors. And my favorite cosmos: 

Sensation. Pink, white, purple.

Yesterday Tim picked the first bouquet.

The more you pick them, the more

they bloom. Now they rest on our

dining table: dark red, bright pink,

yellow, the new green. They join the

table clutter: this week’s newspaper, 

various papers I’m working on, books, 

my Trollope novel Phineas Finn, my

appointment book, cracker boxes, 

salt, the honey jar, miscellaneous spoons,

a roll of paper towels, Tylenol, file

folders, toothpicks, the sugar bowl,

green placemats. They belong. I’ll

make sure the zinnias have their water.



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