These peonies did make me cry. Their chirpy little voices, fizzing in my imagination like champagne. “Oooh, you are so pretty!” I said to them. “We know!” they said – and I burst into tears.
And the breezy soft petunias, living on my most inhospitable fire escape. They ring more than chirp, like bright wind chimes when I see them in the morning to water them. I was supposed to grow them in my community plot, but I like them so much outside my backdoor, they stayed.
Here I am – between petunias and peonies. They always know just what to say.