Or perhaps roses...
Incidentally the management later sent out a memo which included "don't pick the flowers." I wonder if the daughter read it.
As you can see above, this is a huge bed of peonies.
These beauties below, were near another neighbor's apartment, and they are another kind of rhododendron.
For there are no new ideas. There are only new ways of making them felt — of examining what those ideas feel like being lived on Sunday morning at 7 A.M., after brunch, during wild love, making war, giving birth, mourning our dead — while we suffer the old longings, battle the old warnings and fears of being silent and impotent and alone, while we taste new possibilities and strengths.