The poem reminds me of my mumme … she was born with an exceptional green thumb as she can even a dry twig grow into a beautiful plant … Often I would her heard whisper to her plants while was tending to them … and sometimes the whisper would turn into a song … and sometimes the song would turn into a rather angry comment … and sometimes she would just stand there silently … listening to a sickly plant. Love, cat.
Dearest one, good morning. I am off too as well, to this place where there needs to be no explanation, translation or facade. The garden, it knows our names. HUGS TO YOU!
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Heerlijke muziek !
The poem reminds me of my mumme … she was born with an exceptional green thumb as she can even a dry twig grow into a beautiful plant … Often I would her heard whisper to her plants while was tending to them … and sometimes the whisper would turn into a song … and sometimes the song would turn into a rather angry comment … and sometimes she would just stand there silently … listening to a sickly plant. Love, cat.
Dearest one, good morning. I am off too as well, to this place where there needs to be no explanation, translation or facade. The garden, it knows our names. HUGS TO YOU!
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