With the sun finding a crack in the clouds, and warmth spilling out, we finally brought the two clivia out of the basement and set them under the willow oak to await their once-a-year bright orange blooms.
We mourned the passing of a warm-hearted professor–a lover of words and roses as we watched his memorial service streamed remotely. No, it wasn’t COVID that took him, but it was the virus that kept his loved ones from the sanctuary where he should have been memorialized by many.
Meanwhile, a mourning dove kept guard by the mulch pile under a feeder, chasing away blue jays and blackbirds relentlessly. That dove gave peace to none.