Another pretty flowering shrub in the old section of the village. I hate the idea that all these will be lost when the wreckers are sent in.
Of course I could go in there and get a bunch of cuttings but I already have a dozen plants that I care about on my balcony and the new gardens are a different style and not mine.
Writing is what I do. What I think about. What I meditate on. What I dream up. Listen to. Imagine. Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes I eat. And I walk. Pull out environmental weeds. There are a thousand more things I do, though writing comes into a fair few of those things too.
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