She whispered to no one in particular, “It’s worth it to see the flowers bloom.” Even when you plant them just for yourself. Even when no one seems to notice. Even when, one day, a child sees beauty in your dirt-stained labor and calls it magic.
Now, in this alley with danger at every corner, she thought about those thistles. She thought about how even beauty could come wrapped in protection. Maybe people were the same. Maybe her father’s harsh words were his thorns—meant not to destroy, but to protect.
She moved through the garden, each step heavy, each breath a mix of sorrow and reverence. When she reached the tomb,…
This uncommon iris. It’s beautiful. Unique. Stands out in a group of irises that all look the same. Transformed from the inside out. It tells a story about grace.
“Hope, like the daffodils, is always ready to return. You just have to believe it will.” I whispered the words in the silence,…
The Story of Flowers. The stories that flowers tell in gardens are timeless and poetic, each bloom holding a narrative of its own.