I took advantage of a break in the drizzle and had a chat with my Azalea. “This is October,” I said. “October. You do not bloom until December. That is the rule. Understand?” She thumbed her nose at me and showed me yet another emerging burst of white flower. Sheesh. Children. What can you do? I pulled my baked potato out of the oven, steamed a handful of green beans and had breakfast. I’m at the...
This story is only covered by news sources that have yet to be evaluated by the independent media monitoring agencies we use to assess the quality and reliability of news outlets on our platform. Learn more here.