Milk & Honey Pt 3

 by Maryanna Gabriel 


Clearly, I had underestimated the prowess of octogenarians wielding power and the bondage that entailed. The writing was on the wall, er, rather, contract. I needed to be Mistress Of My Own Shrubberies. With the sale, I happily departed from the beige nonsense and ventured forth. I was looking for a new home where the word "freehold" was part of the deal. 

After a protracted wander in the vast and arid desert that was the Canadian housing market, a miracle occurred. Seriously. I was led to a land of milk and honey. And very freehold, I am overjoyed to say.

Land of Milk & Honey
Pictured lower right - "cluster of Windmill Palms".

Hey, and you'll never guess. So, I'll tell you! There are baby Windmill Palms, a veritable cluster of them, planted lovingly by the former owner, healthily thriving in a magnificent garden where roses bloom.

Funny, isn't it?

By the way, the next patio townhome owner lasted ten months. Given the renovations she had made I estimated she also sold at a loss.

In the real estate photos, the palm was gone.

So you see, all is well. And there is quite a lot to be said for being a person of colour, even if it is chlorophyll, after all. Perhaps we may deduce this as the moral of the tale.