I got home from my four miles to/from the public library and, lo and behold, after writing about everyone else’s roses still in bloom, I found a drooping flower on the climber on the south side of the house, one of the sunset-colored and mightily fragrant roses that smell of rain or cinnamon or cut flowers or maybe even grass…
Throw Another Log on the Fire
Actually, now that we are city folk, all we have to do is flick a switch and the gas fireplace with its ceramic log pile comes to life. Been there, done that re: the hauling of wood for the past nine years. It’s nice to have a touch of luxury,…