The smell of dusty twine, potting soil, and various other gardening implements flooded my senses upon entering the dimly lit shed. The newest arrival to my indoor plant collection - a charming little fern - was placed into a favorite clay pot; another plant was transplanted into a better container. The feeling of the soil in my hands, the sound of a potsherd shattering on the floor of the shed, the feeling of that same floor on my bare feet, still hot from the late afternoon sun: these were all sharp yet muted essences that, added together, made for the best portion of my day.
Organizing, cleaning, and purging: all going on in my bedroom. Such a feeling. Tonight I used a pair of chopsticks from China Town, San Francisco to extract dried orchid blossoms from a narrow glass jar. Not an easy feat.
Currently reading: "The Maytrees"...it took me a while to get in sync with the writing style, but little by little I've been falling in love with it. A book more about moments and feelings than anything else. Final review forthcoming.
Goodbye, June..."June, she´ll change her tune/In restless walks she´ll prowl the night" (-Simon & Garfunkel)
