When You Sit Down

What does summer in the garden mean? It's joy every day!

Rose opened the first boutons under the window today.

This beautiful flower is a park rose, winters without shelter, flowing beautiful, no problem.

We just need to figure out some backups, and she's got a bit of a whistle.

Esholcia finally and I'm growing self-sustained and now I've coaled her during the swimsuit and didn't pull it out. That's the flower.

Every day of rain or storms with winds, the pies fell.

We've got to figure out a beautiful foot for them, too.

At the tree, today, the sky flowed microscopic flowers. They must've been constantly downloaded, but they're still trying to survive.

It's now an ambush. I was so excited that the chewings were good and cherries, and the cherries and lots of berries went off.

Look what you're doing. All the berries in the cherries and the bars are like that. Who knows what to attack?

That's awesome.

I noticed. Iriss are just flowing very short, and if the rain is still scattering at the moment, the gardens are held for a very long time and in any weather. The village, however.

That's what we used to be friendly. Lena, I forgot what it is. Mattiola?

That's what's up for today.

Well, for the last time, my guts.

I didn't believe you could grow up like a picture of huge bells.

It's called "The Cup with the Cookie," although they certainly don't remember the name, but they used to try to sow around for a while, and last year, I was able to raise the machro rums and bells.

The pinks started in the first year, and those glasses were gone. I realized it was a two-year-old.

The winter came out beautifully, and both of us got stabbed.

Today, the first one opened its bells. Real, not a bell, but a bell.

I hope it's white.