As I walk, I pass this living work of art.
No one here in this remote location to bear witness to the bursting display. The “ta da!” of variegated jewel tones splayed in celebration to the sun.
It seems a silent miracle, this unfolding beauty.
A masterpiece in motion. A work of progress magnifique!
Just tucked there, beaming, in the bushes.
I planted all of the succulents that were in my bridal bouquet. They root in pots at my kitchen window. Peripheral, they soak in the warmth of dinner time.
I heat miso soup on the stove and make chard cakes from our garden harvest. The Bohemian talks to a Czech friend , that beautiful, foreign language rolling from his tongue, mingling with soup steam.
One rose-like floret, thick and lush, calls me from my chopping. There’s symmetry in bloom. Two perfect drops of water, cupped.
The Bohemian must have watered. It looks like new growth. I believe the succulents are taking hold.
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