Oh, what a beautiful morning, I thought, as I sat on my back veranda drinking my morning coffee, bathed in sunshine, gazing up at the blue sky, watching my cigarette smoke swirl around in the gentle breeze, reflected in the rays of light.
The start of a brand new week. I could get to like Mondays, I thought. Who'd have thought?
The lavender bushes have purple buds all over them, lined up along the fence running up the side of the court yard. They are like small, mauve, torpedoes, pointed to the sky, not fully formed. My lemon-scented Geranium has filled out just how I had hoped it would; bushy, filling the terracotta pot entirely. The leaves give off a pungent lemon smell, as I crush them between my finger tips. I brush my hand across my nostrils and breath in the taste of lemon acid drops. The cactus' leaves are pulled down by the weight of abundance of scarlet flowers, like ballerinas pirouetting in the breeze. Where, once, the white azalea used to bloom like a princess' bonnet, a sphere of delicate white petals, now grows a succulent, crimson on one side of its leaves and green on the other.
I watch the fish swim in the pond, dazzled by their orange scales, as the surface of the water fractures with the sun's light, like crystal reflecting orange facets, as the fish swim underneath.
The waterlilies have bloomed with buttercup yellow flowers, dotted amongst the green foliage.
Missy purrs loudly, as she reaches up to my leg with her paws. I reach over and pat her, feeling the sensuousness of her soft fur against the palm of my hand.
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