A while back, an old friend of mine got married. The marriage is one of those well-deserved happy endings. This woman went through so many trials and tribulations, and finally fell in love with a genuinely decent man, who truly loves her back. So I have never been able to stop being especially happy for her.
She loves plants, and before the wedding, she planted him some special bougainvillea in their new place. He's not the plant freak she and I are, but like Walter, he's an excellent Admirer of the Gardener's Endeavors.
So much so, he listened well to her describing how the very word, bougainvillea, is a beautiful word on its own. Bougainvillea. When you say that word it rolls around in your mouth, you savor its touch inside. It's so evocative of the grace and strength and brilliance and gorgeousness of that plant, of the virile life of a flower that bursts forth with great natural beauty.
He listened so well that one night, after they were particularly well blessed with that natural joy of union between two true lovers, he said to her softly -- Bougainvillea.
--What? she drowsily replied.
--You were screaming so much it was like you were saying, Bougainvillea! Bougainvillea! Bougainvillea!
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4 comments:
LOL! Try saying that 3 times--resl fast!
you mean screaming it ten times real fast? ;)
Whatever. I'm too bashful to scream. :)
oh, i'm not a screamer either. too distracting. ;)
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