My Dears,
Among my favourite past-times is a light ramble in the fields behind the cottage where the peonies, flocks, and daisies bloom. I gather the buds and blossoms as the gentle breeze caresses my face, and the grass teases my toes... a wild sprig or two may flirt with my ankles as it sneaks 'neath the hem of my skirts...
Occasionally, when the rains come and seem to dampen the spirits of the wild flowers, I must resort to purchasing my blooms at the hothouse. Of course, they are quite well groomed. The colours are vivacious and their perfume fills the cottage...
It is a different excursion altogether when one visits the hothouse. One must always wear one's bonnet, tuck lace, and polish their shoes for such a visit. There are no such customs in the fields behind the cottage. One's hair may flow freely, and one's feet may be undressed...
I do so love a tender bouquet. As my peonies beg their farewell to the month of June, I must visit the hothouse within a fortnight...
Among my favourite past-times is a light ramble in the fields behind the cottage where the peonies, flocks, and daisies bloom. I gather the buds and blossoms as the gentle breeze caresses my face, and the grass teases my toes... a wild sprig or two may flirt with my ankles as it sneaks 'neath the hem of my skirts...
Occasionally, when the rains come and seem to dampen the spirits of the wild flowers, I must resort to purchasing my blooms at the hothouse. Of course, they are quite well groomed. The colours are vivacious and their perfume fills the cottage...
It is a different excursion altogether when one visits the hothouse. One must always wear one's bonnet, tuck lace, and polish their shoes for such a visit. There are no such customs in the fields behind the cottage. One's hair may flow freely, and one's feet may be undressed...
I do so love a tender bouquet. As my peonies beg their farewell to the month of June, I must visit the hothouse within a fortnight...
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