I am writing from Columbia tonight. The clergy of the diocese are meeting tomorrow and Saturday. I came over late in the day to save myself having to be out of the house by 6:00 in the morning, not to mention braving Columbia's incoming morning traffic. I'm thinking of Tal -- and roses.
Tal arrived home from his semiannual, Monday through Wednesday, Santee golf outing late yesterday afternoon. An intense time by all accounts. Three days. Three rounds of golf. He found the house neat and supper preparations -- rosemary salmon, his favorite -- underway. AND, thanks to his ongoing, almost year round patience, there were freshly cut roses from our yard adorning the dining table.
As I was making my way through the day -- working the list, I noticed those roses a number of times. At lunch they were in my line of sight, between me and the shiny black of the piano. I paused in my tasks to retrieve the camera. This shot, not showing the entire arrangement, is my favorite, the roses set on the piano and me standing in a chair looking down on them.
So I'm here and Tal's there. Something's wrong with this picture. I'm thinking of him -- and the lovely roses he grows.