5:30 PM. 70 degrees. Steaks on the grill. Reasonably successful day at work. Everything — the callas, the birds of paradise, the baby’s breath, those camelia-looking things, EVERYTHING — in bloom… Insert deep, contented, blissful sigh here.
1 thought on “Perfection.”
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I'm so glad to hear that, chica. Good for you! Wish I were there with you.