Not a breath of wind in the garden today. It’s like July doesn’t want to leave and I want to stay with it, cocooned in its heat, its light and its growth. Like a bird in its nest, I want to stay inside July. For at least this one last day.
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Brennessel
One of those curious German words that I’d hear growing up alongside Wanzen , (the dreaded bedbugs of Mom’s gulag days), and Quasselwasser ...
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