A return to routine requires an antidote; in this case, flowers. Impatiens for the shady stoop and in between the ferns. Begonias for the deck. Zinnias for the garden. Weeds have gotten the upper hand. I pull them out by the fist-full. I find one red rose almost covered in the side yard. I plunge my hands into the earth and think about the summer, how it’s just starting. Last night I planted until I couldn’t see my hands in front of me anymore. Lightning bugs flickered around me.