Rose in the Nose

It’s too early to stop and smell the roses. But am out on the deck, moving pots around. Preparing for spring planting.

Am wrestling with a big pot. Bent over in a squat. Feel a prick on nose and stand up. This is bad. A thorn from a bush improperly known as “Peace” slices its way up. Not only does this sting. It slashes me right in the middle of the most prominent feature of my face.

Someone is arranging to take my photo in the next several days for a publication. Must stall them as long as possible.

Photo: it looks worse without the snapchat filter.