Sweet Peas

I savour the delicious perfume of the sweet peas as I step onto the deck.

"What?" you say. "Blogging again? Shouldn't you be on the treadmill?"

"Yes," I reply smugly. "I did my penance and stepped out to pick the last of the Romaine." In the garden the frost has left unmistakable evidence of its visit. The squash leaves are shrivelled and black, leaving their pale mystery squash in stark relief. We don't know what squash hybrid we were sold, but it bears no resemblance to the zucchini we wanted.

Call me if you want some.

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