French Husband and I worked in our overgrown courtyard today. The intoxicating explosion of jasmine growing on our trellis has our neighbors asking, "Where is that perfume coming from?"
We cleaned the fountain that our fish are living, and found that our oldest fish (fifteen years old) was not well. French Husband calls it, "Slipper" because he is puffy round, like a fat bedroom slipper. In French slipper is "Pantoufle".
I swept a million dried rose petals into little piles on the cobble stones.
Gardening with French Husband puts me in a good mood, doing it alone does not.
At the brocante I found a pile of white cotton, handmade nightdresses from the early 1900s.
Most were sleeveless, Some with sleeves, most with monograms and mother of pearl buttons.
Why not wear them out at night?
Why not out in the garden while watching the moon rise, tucked in the arms of the one you love?
Why go to bed, when you can sleep outside under the jasmine? And stuff a pillow with dried rose petals?
Why live ordinarily when it is the only life we have?
Tell me your summer dreams?
What do you dare to do?
What makes you happy during summer?
Have you had your first strawberry, melon, peach, pear, plum?
This evening our close friend (Who tried to commit sucide nearly two months ago, thankfullly is feeling a bit better– Thank you for your many prayers and good thoughts sent!) is with us.
We are having salmon, and I made goat cheese and dried tomato bundles.
Strawwberries and cream for dessert.
If you would like a white cotton nightdress (one size fits many and most) leave a comment, and I will pick five tomorrow and send them out.
Happy Sunday Summer!
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