. . . pollen and mites, please.
Some roses can’t decide if they would rather be yellow or red.
My walls are empty, which for me is really something. I am the type of person who puts something up and adds another thing, never considering that I should take an item down. So when we cleared the walls for the painters and packing, they appeared so white and blank as to be blinding.
Singing in the house now without quilts and photos on the walls, without furniture and rugs . . . well, it is like singing in the shower. Great acoustics, but kind of sad. I have my calendar that I made with my photos sitting by its lonely self on my mantle; and of course, I play on my computer, creating pieces of art from photos taken. So that helps. I will be happy to eventually have a home again instead of a property.