Even getting there holds its treasures.  The poppies and daisies set themselves up nicely against the ever-present purple…whose name I forget.

Ah, the forgetting.  It’s one syllable, and I think it starts with ‘s’ and I think it has an ‘h’ in it.  And it maybe has another non-floral meaning.  But you can’t look that up, can you?  Even if I think of its name, I don’t think I’ll come back and edit this.  Words just beyond the tip of the tongue (or perhaps tip of the brain?) are fascinating.  I want to say ‘stealth’ but of course that’s not it! Ah, statice!  (No ‘h’ after all.] And I’m not sure that’s how you spell it — but it doesn’t seem to have much status in my brain.  [Ugh!}