Amongst flowers

Was scouting around in the garden at my boss's house (he works from home), trying to shovel out some good photographs of the buds this spring. After ages I felt the joy of falling on my knees in the mud, getting my hands dirty by this mud and not the grease of public bus handles. Mrs. Boss came and sat in a folding chair while I composed, displaced rose pots and figured out axes. 
As I picked up the pot, it felt the same weight as maybe, a two-yr old. Which reminds me, I have a 3yr old niece. Like you have to be nearer a phone tower to hear better on your cellphone, you need to be near her parents to hear what she says. Till she gets familiar with you of course. And my 8yr old-- till the age of 2 she was a silent observer and quietly naughty, and though everyone around got worried that she didn't talk, I knew there would come a time when people would wish they hadn't wished what they had, and that time sort of came. She talks, and talks, and sooo many questions... I love such kids. In fact, I like such grown ups as well. It's like this circulatory cellphone message I just got- friendship with a flower makes you fragrant, friendship with rain soaks you, friendship with the sun burns you. Whom one is amongst matters so much. And a balance in one's company matters so much.