Then all of a sudden you feel all alive inside you; a surge of enthusiasm rushing through your veins as you light the candles and know exactly what you need to do...
Outside the quiet garden waits bathed in moon dust. Guided by the light of the solar-powered footpath lamps I walk by the sleeping roses and the night bloomers—the moon vine and and the lady of the night and night jasmine. They’re not really there—but I know they are. They will!
They have been put under a slumbering spell by Father Winter, and thus they remain in their underground crypt; silently waiting for the first kiss of the sun to wake them up with the unconquerable force of life.
Oh but wait! I see something—over there! Do you see it too?
The Iris Reticulata—little gifts from my Father scattered all around the garden!
Suddenly, the flowerless garden has turned into a magical place. Delight fastened to the edge of my nightgown, and I’m setting tiny fires with my fingertips.
Everything comes to life in a mysterious and enchanting way.
Earliest of the northern flowering bulbs, the Iris Raniculata is forever associated with spring in my mind. Just looking at these amazingly blue little flowers makes my heart aglow. Suddenly my thoughts take a cheerful turn. One of these days, the cold northern winds will go back to their ancient place and snow will disappear completely, and like happy Irises, I will dwell outside amidst the rose bushes; rooted, contented and part of this amazing flowering little world of mine…
Ah yes, I’m not going back to bed empty-handed after all. My cup has been filled.