These eyes.

Photo by Sara Codair on Unsplash

A riot of color welcomed me, and a quiet cacophony of hummingbirds and bees, butterflies, and other little things come to get drunk on flower sperm and help keep the vibe alive. I was there to see it for her, to relieve some of the pressure of maintaining a garden, of dealing with glaucoma, of not being able to see the finer details anymore.

She was something of a hedge witch though. She knew where she’d planted things, could still see when…