ahimé

Ok, I promise I shall soon shut up about the wisteria. But not yet. I took a bit of a ride tonight after practice and took in lungfulls of wisteria. When I got home, it still hung in my olfactory. I went into the bedroom to change clothes and found that Allison had swiped some from behind Kroger, and placed it on my table beside the bed. In no time, the whole room smelled of purple. She said she'd planned to get a lot more and filll every vase in the house with it. We have a lot of vases. Living room book shelves, mantle, kitchen counters, dining room. But alas, she didn't have time to gather enough, and probably all our sinuses would have swollen shut. As it is, of the five most awesome things Al has ever done, this is either number 2 or 3. I'm not quite sure. If she'd have filled the house, definitely 2 - maybe 2 anyway. But at least 3. It's tough, she has come up with some pretty awesome things, some planned and some impromptu. Maybe I should make two categories of awesome things - planned and impromptu, because in the impromptu category, this may be number 1. I'll have to check. She tuned in to my right now and got on board.

The most beautiful thing about wisteria is its personality - its character.
Look at the weeping blossoms. Dripping purple tears down the side of the vase. Even in its sorrow, it brings joy to all who see it. It looks like a visual version of a Monteverdi madrigal.
I can connect with wisteria. I know what it's feeling.
It rarely grows by itself, it needs another to support it. It hangs on to trees and fences and poles. It is not a parasite, it just needs support. Can't quite do it alone. There is a place inside me that is the color of wisteria. All my outside is khaki and green, then seasonally, somewhere out of the earthtones, a flow of purple. I'd have never guessed it.
Ahi