Dear Wigleaf,

Saturday night. Don't have much time just now. Heading out on a bender with the gardeners. Just three tonight. E-, T-, and L- (my lover). L- was just promoted to Manager of Living Collections. We're all rather envious of the title. The responsibilities, less so. She'll be buying, I hope. Will finish my note tomorrow with all things noteworthy (if I can recall any).

Here I am again. Sunday afternoon. On the back porch. Dog at my feet, baking. I'm hiding behind a pole so the sun doesn't blind me. Nothing of note last night. I just split a mango with L-. She has made our back patio so lush. Daffodils and tulips in bloom. Blades of iris leafing out. Hellebore's, demure and down facing. Variegated hostas breaking ground around her new frog statue. Ferns resurrecting. Her lone voodoo lily is finally falling in on itself after a stinky two-week run. She is Manager of Living Collections here too. I asked if she had any news she wanted to share with you. Here it is: A mourning dove has made its nest atop the window AC next to her writing desk. When we creep close for a peek, she tilts her head back and regards us like, "Can I help you?" We're big fans.

As for what is to come. L- and I will make love at some point. Lazy afternoon love. Then, risotto with mushrooms, shallots, and gruyere. Chicken cutlets. A phone call with my mother. A slow walk through the neighborhood with doggo. An anxious night's sleep. Because tomorrow it's back into the salt mines.

Love,

Sam