I took a look out through the window when I woke up this morning. Experienced a bout of mixed feelings. Really mixed feelings after seeing this: a profusely flowering Tecoma tree. (I glanced at my neighbours' trees across the road and they were flowering just as gaily. Thus, I'm not the only one with a flowering tree.)
Although the pink Tecoma flowers looked grand in the trees, I knew that before long I shall have to contend with sweeping all the fallen ones away. That was one of the main grouses of my aunt while she was still alive. Sweeping the porch was a never-ending chore for her. If not the dried leaves, it would be the fallen flowers; and if it were not the fallen flowers, it would be the seeds and fallen branches. It was a never-ending cycle and she grumbled loud and long. And now, it's my task to continue with it - the sweeping, if not the grumbling. Lately, this is one of the stories of my life.....
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