Blow upon my garden so that its spicy fragrance spills out… Song of Songs

ShebaLG

Wake, O north wind; and come, thou south; blow upon my garden,that the spices thereof may flow out.Let my beloved come into his garden, and eat his pleasant fruits.

You are all over me – all over my hands – I am loathe to work with these world washed hands. I don’t want to soil what has been sanctified.

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