On the patio sits a flower pot, plain, unadorned and empty save some soil left over from it's last occupant. It's terracotta, that colour that transports me back to Italy, fresh pasta and even fresher waiters. I can almost smell the basil sauces, the fresh bread and taste ice cold wine. But that's a long way from where I am now. The patio is simply concrete, the only tree in the yard is in tight bud and the grass around the outer edge is still abused by the winter cold and over eager rain. I'm of a mind to plant chives in it, something simple to grow but pungent, tasty. Then even if I forget about it they'll grow those globe shaped purple flowers...
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