Handfuls of Buds

My handsome Théodule, I do so love to fondle your bulbs, to pluck them from the soil and roll them about in my hands while they are still warm from the earth. There is something very satisfying in the weight of them, in the firmness of them once the dirt has been brushed away. You see what you have done to me now, teaching me such habits. So I must return the favour in kind and tell you of the most wondrous gatherings of my buds. You will already know that many clove buds grow near the old cow house north of the Chapel, though I wonder if you know they may also be found not more than thirty paces west of the Chapel itself, in the forest between the Chapel and the road, just north of the ravine. There are more besides. The buds dot the top of the hillside where the trees give way to the fields, just north of the Well of Stars. I suspect you know that place well enough already. After all, you and I have spent many evenings there warming each other's hands beneath the table, so the ground should be familiar to you. And of course around the small barn east of the Well of Stars, clove grows in abundance as well. The plants seem to favour that soil. The final place that comes to mind lies at the edge of the field where the West Causeway leaves the forest and meets the open land. There is a small cluster there too, easy enough to gather if one knows where to look. I do so long for your hands upon my buds, and I cannot wait to see how full they are of them when next we meet. - Margaretha