My house is but two away from the main street where I catch my bus in the morning. The bus stops in the middle of the block. So say it takes me one minute to walk to the bus stop.
Unless, unless the sun is shining , and new flowers are open in the garden, and I have to stop for a fast shot of this one or, oh my God, that one. Picture me whirling around in the garden a la Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music.
Then I'm late and running down the street praying the bus is behind schedule or someone has seen me and told the driver to wait or I just miss the bus. And another one doesn't come for 20 minutes.
But after the winter we had, it's damn near impossible not to stare at this Sugar Blues iris, or the Miss Kim lilac or that crazy weigela , a shrub I swear I grow not so much for its blooms as for a chance to say it's name (same with euonymus, but that's a shrub for a different season).
So there goes the bus, but that gives me 20 minutes to go back home and pull a few weeds and pick a few flowers and make that er, I 'm running late phone call.
Crazy gardens, always tempting, always getting us into trouble. Ask Eve.
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