A feast of seeds filling out. I knew the road super will be on vacation this week. I asked him about Sunflower, last week.
“I guess you’re in charge.” I have to water it every afternoon, because “that south sun is hot against that white door, and it’s only growing in concrete and gravel.” Since he’s home, a mile away, painting his house this week, I hope he takes pity on me and makes Sunflower checkups on his way to the hardware store.
I have a plan. I sent two more grandkids off to art camp this week. Laura and Francis, the twin cousins (born two weeks apart), will Paint like Picasso this week.
When I pick them up we’ll nip up the street to the town hall. Nothing like kids to enjoy hauling a bucket of water. Or three. That's how many I'll have in the back seat.