booth, planters, sweetness

*Slipping into a booth while he finds a parking space, ordering a frozen margarita. When he comes through the door I watch him before he sees me. And he walks toward me, a ship toward its moor.

*Cleaning out the outside closet and thinking of all the gorgeous plants to grow in the empty planters.

*When I step outside the door a waft of sweetness engulfs me. What is this? Is it the neighbor's dryer sheet? A new floor cleaner someone below us is trying out? Question answered when I turn around and see the pot of purple petunias that I planted before I went to the beach. They are blooming profusely.