Mira has the green thumb, not me. The cool of the late afternoon comes upon us at last. The humidity remains constant; that is the one thing we did not miss out west! Still, She decides it’s a better time to weed than during the prime heat of the day.
She fills her pine basket with the first round. One grunt, and the intruders strangling her flowers come up, roots and all. She hums as she works. Meanwhile, grasshoppers chirp on, a cicada sounds off, and sporadic birdsongs abound beside a central Air Condition’s constant drone.
Under her care, our flower and vegetable gardens have a chance. The backyard critters will be so happy.
and a gracious change
in the weather
a mammoth-sized cottoball
slowly floats away