blissful home

We were inside our home with guests. While B was talking with them, I wandered outside into the garden. It was late in the day and the moon had risen; a white disc high in a serene blue sky. The garden was in full bloom and huge soft pink roses had opened overnight. They were fat and lovely, their velvety petals wide and fragrant. I went back inside, eager to tell B and show her our garden. She was in the middle of a conversation so I waited until the time was right and then took her outside. The sea had now risen and instead of a distant view of the ocean, its clear turquoise waters lapped at our garden. We were delighted and surprised. I told B that I thought we were dreaming. She agreed and, knowing that it was merely a dream, we decided to enjoy it, aware that if it was real, many people would now be homeless or drowned. As it was, we experienced a kind of magic. B saw the roses and many other flowers - white and pink trumpet lilies, jasmine and other fragrant flowers - all in bloom.