Untold lilies of the valley, fragrance of honeys

and Daphne, drift through gazebo and Pagola.

Raise the line of lights

and cleanse me in intricate fountains

as the emerald hour descends

in the garden of the moon underwater.

The Oh, folks, alack and alas, it's landlord alone.

But only briefly, Robin is in the garden of the moon underwater.

He is assessing some of the new plantings,

some of the infinity pools as well. I say infinity pools, it's actually infinite pools.

We have sort of an uncountable number of pools here in the moon underwater garden and each shimmer

with a different style a different sort of glow some contain water lilies some contain

I'm going to say aqua flowers of the Orient, if that's a phrase you're familiar with,

but with strange and intricate sort of petalings.

But every so often we have to just sort of tend to them in the garden here at the moon underwater.

So I know Robin enjoys it at this sort of, it's before the

gloaming hour, but after the witching hour. So basically before half six, but after half four,

usually around half five, when the light is still quite strong, but it's paled somewhat with peaches and pinks before the impending violets upon violets.

So anyway, Robin's out the back sorting all that out, hopefully emptying the bins as well.

Which leaves me, Johnny J.R. the landlord, to welcome you to the moon underwater once more.

We're a little bit behind with the prep for this week's guest, but I have enough time.

I mean, Robin's been out in that garden for quite a while now, so I sighed for the mail.

...