Red flowering currants, alive with bumblebees — that’s what a little warmth and sunlight will do, not forgetting, of course, the three hundred sixty-four days that led to this moment.
Don’t you just love them? she said, and we stood talking for a while. My mother had dementia. I flew to Massachusetts every two to three months. There goes a hummingbird — the earth turning all the while.
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Categories: Walks and Whispers
Tags: Bumblebees, Conversation, Currants, Hummingbirds, Spring, Sun, The Earth, Walking
William Michaelian 