I should clean up the freesias in that vase. The blossoms are falling off the stems. They don’t smell as strongly this year as they did last year. But at least I have them. I searched in the market Sunday. There was only one woman with a few tattered bunches. No gardenias this year, though. Might be the drought. Only four rains last summer. Not nearly enough. The wells in the hills are running slow. Jane’s is only seeping and Raphael’s is entirely dry. The Casa buys water from the water truck. 500 gallons every three days for laundry and showers. It comes late at night, after the other guests have gone to bed. I am awake. I hear the howl of the transfer pump starting up and the splash of water falling into the empty tank.
I think of home and my own well and always full water tank. I think of the rain that never seems to stop.
