I'm trying to get my fill of the peonies, dashing outside whenever I think of it to soak in their beauty. I stuff my nose into the lush flowers without regard for ants. It is due to rain today and we know what that does to them.
They have always been a favorite of mine, and are actually the only stand of flowers planted in my garden. They remind me of decorating my bike with tissue flowers when I was 7 - the fake flowers as suscepticle to rain as the real thing. In my minds eye I see a rubenesque women (me), laying on a bed of peonies, petals strewn everywhere (the ants that frequent the flower are nowhere in sight in my fantasy). There is a word that perfectly describes their lush, sensousness, but I can't think of it... oh wait: voluptuous.
Spike is bored with being at home. He lies down with a big sigh, and can barely get himself to walk down the laneway, except, occasionally, in an incredible burst of speed he races at top speed.
How does that song go? 'Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens... these are a few of my favorite things.
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