Mike stood up and rested his butt on the porch railing. “Jo.” He said flatly. He stayed there for a few minutes taking stock of the work he’d paid for. Her hair never looked better and the clothes. Maybe the Battered Women’s Shelter could parse them out to women looking for work.
I am glad to see summer. My north garden has recovered from a bit of transplant shock. Some of my flowers come back every year. In 1998 I worked hard all summer removing pesky weeds. Just to see what they would become, I let a few grow and they turned into Columbines. The White Nancy…… Continue reading Flowers–Pretty and Poison