The rain slips down my back as I stand in the rain, and I rejoice in the fact that spring is finally here, bringing with it all of the ideas, conflicts, and green that the newness surrounding me promises.
My dream scape is filled with a strangely clashing swirl of ideas and activity; one that features both roses and the undead, neither of which are unwelcome.
I welcome the blessed rain that we have received, along with all the many newly bloomed roses, but not the aphids that happen to plag them.
My roses (though they are really our land ladies) are in full bloom, except for the ones that over the years, (none of which I was here for) have been eaten by a horrible bush, one which my mm insists I not kill, instead leaving it to slowly absorb my roses, on after another, into the smothering darkness that is its insides. I began to exhume them today, resorting to use of the hack saw in order to remove many of the thicker branches, and have received a wonderful barrage of cuts and scratches up and down my arms in exchange for my help.
my flow of ideas has returned, and I have fully submerged myself amongst the many words that fill the pages of my well worn notebook.
My dream scape is filled with a strangely clashing swirl of ideas and
activity; one that features both roses and the undead, neither of which
are unwelcome. I hope yours is filled likewise, and traverse it carefully, there are plenty of thorns hidden with in your mind as well as upon your plants.
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