But, no, these are just ordinary roses, and their blossoming is but figuratively explosive. Still, the blossoms are noticeably growing in number every day. I expect perhaps half a dozen more to have opened by the time I wake up this afternoon, unless the day remains as gray as the morning now is. The flowers always bloom faster when the sun is bright.
Plants have a more congenial relationship with the sun than I do. I get along better with the clouds, the fog, and the overcast. This morning's overcast is particularly nice, prodded by deep green pines and enlivened by swift birds whose dark and fluttering shapes inscribe paths above the forest. The breeze is fresh and cool and smells of damp. It's too bad I have to sleep. I'd like to go for a walk and let my swinging cuffs gather dew from the tall field grasses.