Our friend Paul has a night-blooming cereus that blooms profusely every year. Last night i received an email: We have 7 blossoms tonight. I looked at my sweetie. "It's 9:15. Shall we go?"
We hopped in the car and drove the 15 minutes to the cereus extravaganza. Donning masks and social distancing our extrovert friends, we walked through their house, to the little solarium off the kitchen.
"Smell them," our hostess instructed. Which meant taking off our masks for a a few whiffs.
Sometimes we receive an unexpected message: She's dying now. Come quick or it will be too late.
It's so easy to think Later. But later may be too late.
The night-blooming cereus flowers begin wilting at dawn and are dead by sunrise.
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