99

The ground is so thick with petals that it reminds Sasha of the beautiful rainbow fish her father once owned. The colours overlap with a heady vibrancy that brings her hands swooping down on instinct. She lets her fingers touch the perfumed "scales," holding them up briefly to take in their aroma before letting them tumble from her hand back to the garden path. Every shade of rose petal is there, so large and scalloped that they have collected morning dew. Intermingled are the shocking oranges, purples and fuchsias of the asters, their petals long and thin. Later she will return with a pallet and easel and sit for hours until she has captured their transient splendour as best she can.