Tara stalked his fidgeting liver while the upstairs thunder washed the kid garden with peas.
Jake said, “Where’s my hat? The household cattle droppings reclaim the whole place!”
Tara said, “The agenda is enthused to kick open the trousers of scarlet spearmint, but only if the bath of letters picked the summerhouse to hang up the fine morning.”
Jake hopefully crept down the garden wall and the cat said a hot day is coming. It is coming, but the collar of the raincoat is fresh. Fresh as a bee.
Originally published October 31, 2023
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Faded Houses Green 
Bit of a sting to this
A little buzzy today.
What the hell was that? Lol
Yes, you’ve come from the Georgette stories. 🙂
. . . a few precious moments where words can just be themselves- not to be worked out, just to be enjoyed.
Indeed, Willa. 🙂
Next time somebody asks me how I am today, I’m going to say “Fresh as a bee” and leave them baffled.
Works for me! 🙂