It’s the second week of May and I’ve got nearly a fistful of flowers. I walk from the garden into the house with my bouquet, triumphant and jubilant, parading my pleasure.
The sweet pea perfume is strong and seductive. It won’t let you forget. It fills the kitchen, floating through the first floor. As I mix cookie dough on the counter I smell the blooms, even over the vanilla.
Again and again I press my face into the flowers. An intense psychedelic trip of color and scent, into an imaginary world of wild purple perfume. It’s almost too good to be true. I have to remind myself it is real. This has never happened to me before. So soon. So good.
It’s the second week of May. Summer hasn’t even started.
I think to myself I can’t believe it.
This is only the beginning….
