Flower Gypsies

“Don’t forget to check the mail and water the plants while I’m gone.”

“I won’t. Is there anything else you’d like me to do while you’re gone?”

“Unload and load the dish washer.”

“Got it.”

A week later…

“My flight just landed. I’m on my way home.”

“Okay. What do you want to do for dinner?”

“Just order a pizza or something.”

She rushes to unload and reload the dish washer. While it’s running, she runs to the mailbox and grabs the mail. As she sorting out the junk, she spies the dried up flow pots. No hope for her there, all but three flowers had withered in the week’s smoldering heat. With her lack of a green thumb, the still rising thermometer, and no chance of rain, those three would be lucky to make it through the next week.

—

A garden mirage

Writhing white petaled gypsies

Dancing for water