Dear traveler, welcome to the house in the roses!
Please come in! I'm brewing tea. Would you not join me for some tea? Go ahead, take a sit, and while we sip and enjoy this sweetness, if you care to listen I'd share a few things with you too--secrets about my life, here in Hollow Village. 
One would think that life here in the Hollow is a perfect paradise, but this ain't totally true. I get frustrated just like you, and just like you, I do get headaches too. Besides, I’m bound to believe that I’d kill my roses, and that thought is making me feel very miserable... after a week of sunshine and lovely weather, I got “itchy green thumb”, and thus, I decided I wanted to satisfy my gardening desires and pruned my roses... Were the gods laughing at me? One would think so, because that very night the temperature dropped down considerably, and the following day the sky turned grayish-black and few snowflakes drifted off the sky teasingly... as if in revenge. 
It scares me to think that I have become the slayer of my own passion, so on looking for a gleam of hope on the Internet this morning, I read that “Mid-February is the best time to prune roses or after the last hard freeze and before new growth appears”, and although I still think that this might not apply to our region, with its harsh and ever impredictable February weather, my hopes are high for the best blooms ever. More tea?
Oh yes, I’m anticipating with much excitement the rebirth of the earth. I cannot tell you how much my soul yearns for the contact with Nature; sunshine warming my back as my fingers work the soil...
I treasure the beauty and stillness of the garden, and work very hard at it too! It is in stillness that I find peace. It is in stillness that I am opened up to Nature’s voice, so when this harmony is in some way broken, or interrupted, I tend to get very frustrated. Barking dogs top my list of frustrations—actually, barking dogs, digging dogs, inquisitive dogs, jumping dogs—they all frustrate me. Can you imagine my annoyance over my neighbor’s dog, who happily meets all the qualifications above listed?
I have proof. Here is "Jumping-Snoop" on top of our 6" high fence! She can be there barking for hours or just observing the panorama on the other side of the fence, and if she happens to be too tired that day to jump, then she goes for the "underworld" as of to speak... she digs under the fence, disturbing roots and bulbs and whatever she finds in her way.
Ah yes, every garden has its own secrets and its own stories to tell. Believing I was the sweet "Fairy" of my garden was a nice thought for a while. But I had got it all wrong. You see, the other day I read that witches dislike dogs as much as dogs dislike cats. That said, then I must be the "Witch" of my garden! 
So you beware you little "Jumping-Snoop" you! I could turn you into a mouse, and “Morning” would be here waiting for you: hair smooth, claws like knives, tips of teeth like silver, eyes that shine.... arrrgggg!!
