Pining for Pansies

“Whoa! I almost forgot to get a picture before you go!”

I handed my cellphone to Doc, who has the long arms for perfect selfies, and after his gear was stowed into the Lincoln he snapped this: him looking the same as always, me in my fluffy green housecoat.

Doc heads out 2

(Yes I do: walk around the farmyard in my housecoat on warm mornings. You know how it is. You go out on the step with your coffee to test the weather, and it’s so nice out there that you wander down onto the lawn to admire the perennials and stoop to pull a few weeds, and the next thing you know you’re strolling down the driveway.)

This is the first time in 12 days that I’ve not chatted with someone over a cup of coffee in the morning.

The howly wind is back, after two days of muggy heat and bright sun. But the wind is warm and all I want to do is be outside.

I have given in to my love of pansies and stopped at a greenhouse to buy some … just a few … just one pack … just enough for one pot. And they were sold out. I then gave in to my love of gazanias and portulaca and bought some — but only one pack of each. Discipline, that’s what it was. Practical discipline that never, ever squelches the urge toward beauty that gives pleasure.

I hope the dam hasn’t been broken. (Remember, I was not going to buy any annuals, because of DogGirl.) Now I am going to go find a pack of pansies somewhere. Just one.





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