Ruth

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wish I’d appreciated that moment more at the time. I should have asked you about the different flowers, or at least paid more attention. Harebell, clover, oxeye daisies and bird’s-foot trefoil. That’s what I wrote to you: that I want to hear you say the name of every single blade of grass and plant that’s ever grown. That enough is enough, that I’m done.
When the Cranes Fly South
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