This morning I ran out to my backyard before work to find small flowers for my desk. It had rained all night and was still coming down softly. My herbs, sage, parsley, chives & garlic chives had been wilted by unseasonably dry heat the week before, but had all returned to vibrant turgidity with the blessing of moisture. I chose the purple garlic chive blooms, tearing the stems and getting garlicky juices on my fingers. It smelled like walking past Pasta Jay's Italian restaurant.
"The quality of mercy is not strained, it falleth as the gentle rain from heaven." - from Portia's speech in Shakespeare's 'The Merchant of Venice'
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