Cleaning Day
Friday is cleaning day at the guesthouse.
Our cleaner, Rosana, advises me on planting hydrangeas and pruning hibiscus as she extends laundry in the sun and I work in the garden.
“Look at this guava sprout,” she points at a tiny plant grown underneath one of the bedroom windows. “You could replant it elsewhere.”
At lunchtime, I catch her giving her feet a rest in my flip-flops.
She asks me to warn her of rain before it arrives. Before she drives home, she promises to look out for flower sprouts in her neighbourhood she can bring to me next Friday.