I decide to leave a note with the pot and hope some resident will find it and choose to care for it.
The tag lashed to the bush says these roses are – a word that somehow feels appropriate – but it also says they are magenta, not yellow.
My heart sinks a bit to see that behind the buckets of gladiolas and Gerber daisies, Golden Oaks is not as luxurious as I had imagined.
It has more of a Residence Inn vibe than any sort of Ritz-Carlton poshness.
A farmers’ market directly in front of Golden Oaks.