Recidiva
Harastal
- Joined
- Sep 3, 2005
- Posts
- 89,726
That day has come. All spring and summer I have a little chore on my list. "Flowers." I go out with a set of scissors. If I don't, the roses will win and will hang, slowly dying, off of the end of their uncut fibers that I couldn't pry apart with my fingernails and the point of the lovely exercise is defeated, plus I have a mangled manicure. Today I see that chore, go get scissors and open the door...
Fuck. It is way too cold for beauty today. I believe I shall empty out my vase of open roses and delete this chore from my list, as beauty is no longer worth it. This chore will be back in the spring.
I love nature in theory, but 50 degrees is too much to expect. Sorry roses! *waves* Now begins the seasons of watching nature from a heated vantage point where I can watch beautiful leaves and snow fall and think "That is so beautiful. I'm so glad I'm not out in it."
Fuck. It is way too cold for beauty today. I believe I shall empty out my vase of open roses and delete this chore from my list, as beauty is no longer worth it. This chore will be back in the spring.
I love nature in theory, but 50 degrees is too much to expect. Sorry roses! *waves* Now begins the seasons of watching nature from a heated vantage point where I can watch beautiful leaves and snow fall and think "That is so beautiful. I'm so glad I'm not out in it."