By the dozens

The big plumerias we got from Jack's mom and sister -- in this case of course Ethel, the blond one -- put out dozens of blossoms a day. Each of the mother plants is 6 feet tall and 6 feet wide, after all, and that's a lot of bloom room.

Most of the flowers fall on the pool apron to dry and fly away. A few dozen blow into the pool itself, and look as if we planned them to be that pretty floating around before they're sucked ingloriously into the drains. But . . . plumerias, frangipanis, call them what you will. Sniff 'em. I call them spectacularly sweet.