Sunday, June 15, 2014



I saw a pot of wild hydrangea at a strange shop at this time one or two years ago. I was deadly attracted to it; the way the branches was so beautiful. Yet I didn't buy it, afraid of having it die (I am really bad at growing plants). And there was a thick bunch of hydrangea in our tiny garden for more than 15 years. Last summer after the flowers bloomed, my father cut the branches short as usual. Now it seems to have died. Fish herb is more lush than last years and covers the ground. I miss the hydrangea and remember the wild hydrangea of the shop, regretting not buying it.

photos: taken in the neighborhood on June 14, 2014