A place where the laundry is only half done, the coffee is rarely strong enough, and life is beautiful.
I like thunderstorms.
I like the silence that descends before the water hits the ground and the way that rain can start as splatters and crescendo into a downpour.
We bought two milkweed plants a couple months ago after a neighbor showed me her caterpillar-covered milkweed.
Alice followed me as I carried the plants out of the car. “Where are you going to put them?” she asked, big blue eyes darting around the yard. I told her I planned to put them on the side of the house, because, to be honest, the milkWEED didn’t really fit in with the landscaping.
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