Each sunny early morning, the sun's warm fingers tickle the sweet aromas from flowers, blossoms, and grasses. The breezes then entice and carry the loosened dainties far and wide.
Mornings, I lie in bed reading . . . in bliss.
Filmy sheer white curtains lift and gently billow on the air dancing between my room's two huge garden-facing windows, fresh scents swirling with them.
I cannot help closing my eyes in peace, inhaling deeply of the mingled fragrances, smiling in closed-lipped contentment.
Bright blue sky, no clouds.
I shall meander out to the hose in my herb garden to lightly sprinkle newly sprouting basil, parsley, and cilantro, then, give drinks to the other darlings.
I snap a handful of warm-from-the-sun asparagus. Prolific, as is everything else in my gardens this year.
Artisan French toast with berries for breakfast along with roasted just-picked-asparagus, and a mug of the tea my daughter gave me for Mother's Day.
Sweet June!
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