Tuesday, August 16, 2011

used to be

Used to be, I didn't really have to water the garden. You couldn't leave pillows on the deck overnight, or shoes.

That poppy, above, was the first one.  It lasted a few hours, max.

Each thing seems so fragile when it is just beginning, and so inevitable when it is grown and gone.

Which season is not magical?  Which day is not full of its own small miracle?

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