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!}