Flowers happened.

Bacopa.

Morning glories, yesterday and today.

I remember reading some stupid story about ants, or squirrels, or grasshoppers, or some anthropomorphized creatures who were all busy gathering seeds and nuts and hay and whatever to hold them out over the winter except for that one, who spent the summer frolicking, and all the other creatures wanted to leave him to starve but he said no! I can tell you stories and you won’t forget about summer! So they let him stay and eat. Really ham-handed.

But here I am, gathering. My computer runs my photos for a screensaver. Soon it will be winter, and dark, and I’ll look up from writing out french verb conjugations to see a patch of blue, or pink, or green.

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