bottle-blue beads

Another unusually warm day, a sunny afternoon, but I feel unsettled.
Mentally, I’m ready to hunker down indoors, and stop working the
garden, but as long as it’s not frozen, and not covered up with snow,
it nags me. A weed (actually, lots of them) here, a bed to be
tended there.

Instead, I sit and watch the flowers. A few haggard mums hang on, prop
each other up – a dirty sundress that should have been cut into rags
long ago. Last-minute bees browse the clearance racks, looking for
deals, clinging to every drop of nectar they find. Flies come, too,
picking over the remainders. Their bottle-blue backs shine like bright
beads in the faded yellow glory of flowers.