We got to watch Jesus sculpt the laurel edges today--from inside, of course. The keeper left us early for her office quite cheerfully. She is busy hatching plans, she tells us. We also watched the squirrel finish off the last of the hummingbirds' sugar water. Then the keeper came home and found the poor bedraggled iris sagging over the driveway, all frumpy and too heavy for its stalk. But she held the yellow mess up close to catch the fragrance that is as delicate and as graceful as our hummingbirds. They say that the human sense of smell can carry even old people back to their childhoods, and tonight it took the keeper back to a multicolored garden thick with irises overlooking the river and that glorious fragile sweet essence. Sigh.
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