A few weeks ago I met a couple of city workers out to look at my malingering butternut. We discovered we all adore the smell of mock orange. One raved about simply lying underneath it when it was blooming, to breathe in the smell as long as possible. “Sorry,” she said. “I can’t come to work today. My mock orange is blooming.”
My mock orange is blooming. Guess where I am?
Maureen
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