Ginny's garden

Back to the Beginning

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Mon, 26 Jun 2017 00:34:00 +0000

I didn't plan to walk away from posting for over four years. I'm not even sure what has kept me away. But here I am, starting over, going back to the beginning when I posted primarily as a convenient way to keep a garden journal. Today, only photos, but I hope to grow this habit again with some notes and observations.

Luna Hibiscus with a bee hanging on

Autumn Sedum holding big drops of rain from showers overnight

Gaura, Coneflower, Snapdragons, Butterfly Weed

Asters

Volunteer Sunflower that has provided a snack

Cala lilies

Unidentified Daylily - a pass along plant

Black-eyed Susan

Sage - I love blue in the garden

Dill gone to flower

Hostas, Ferns, Hellebores, Acuba, Virginia Creeper

Demanding an audience

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Thu, 06 Jun 2013 01:50:00 +0000

As a photographer of limited skill and talent, I know there are scenes in my garden that I'll never be able to fully capture with my camera. And even the most skilled and talented photographers can't capture all of the elements - the scent, the sound, the feel of the air. So why is it that when I encounter one of those scenes - one that stops me in my tracks, makes my heart beat fast, causes me to whisper an awe-filled "thank you" - my very next impulse is to go get the camera?

Surely I want to preserve the moment for myself - the photos, after all, will remind me of the smells and the sounds and the awe. But it's more than that. I know it's more because the next thing I want to do is show someone the photos I've taken. I want to share the experience.

Is this universally true of gardeners - that we all want to share our gardens?

This time of year there is so much I want to share!

This little wren had to wrestle some of those twigs inside the bird house.

The Shasta Daisies must be the cheeriest flowers in the garden.

Red Yarrow, from our local Master Gardeners Plant Sale

I thought the asters bloomed in the fall, but not this variety.

I planted a pair of these daisy gardenias beside our sweet dog Bear's grave.
A sweet flower for a sweet dog.

Coneflower.

I love them when they're opening up.

Snow Fountains Gaura - a favorite of the bees.

Blue Salvia - the bees love this one, too.
Can you see the bee in the photo?

Hosta blooms attract the bees, too.

"Ditch" lilies

August beauty gardenia

My favorite shots of the hydrangeas are the close-ups.

"Gardening, I told myself, is the most sociable of hobbies. The very nature of one's field of activities demands an audience. No one wants flowers to blush unseen or waste their sweetness."

Barbara Cheney - The Atlantic Monthly, June 1936

"Every end is a beginning"

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Sun, 19 May 2013 20:57:00 +0000

When you look at the year with a gardener's eye, where do you see the beginning?

Maybe winter, when you plan and dream for the season ahead?

Or are you like me, and view the beginning as the time those first green shoots and buds appear?

The beginning of this gardener's year was late. A look back at photos has confirmed my

suspicion that the garden blooms have been appearing a week or more later than they did in 2012.

It's been such a cool Spring that many of the seeds I started didn't germinate.

The Easter lilies were blooming on May 20, 2012.

Today they're just beginning to bud.

The hydrangeas and daylilies that are just now budding were also blooming at this time last year.

Some of last year's blooms haven't returned at all.

The columbine, gaillardia, and coreopsis are gone, though I'm not sure why.

The impatiens that normally self-seed were stricken last August by downy mildew.

But this is the way of the garden, isn't it? Always changing. Plants die while seeds sprout.

The cycle of life continues. While I mourn the loss of the columbine (that I started from seed),

I rejoice at the first bloom on the daisies (that I also started from seed).

The garden is full of color despite the missing columbine.

The dianthus has an abundance of blooms and nothing can stop evening primrose.

The bearded irises from my mother-in-law's garden have multiplied many times over

and put on a great show that has just now faded.

The Virginia spiderwort that I dug from my daughter's backyard continues to spread and

light up the garden with it's blue blooms.

The pale pink blooms of the old-fashioned climbing rose, grown from a cutting rooted by my daughter-in-law, are as beautiful as ever. (Read the story behind this rose here.)

These three plants - the irises, spiderwort, and climbing rose - give me special joy, with their faithfulness and connection to family.

Earlier in May, the scent of the Mock Orange greeted me at the steps

and the rhododendron blooms greeted me as I pulled into the driveway.

I look forward to the daylily, hydrangea, and Easter lily blooms, followed by lantana, zinnia, and marigolds - the bright colors of summer. I am thankful for the changing of the seasons and the gifts of each. And I am thankful, especially, for the reminder that "every end is a beginning."

"Our life is an apprenticeship to the truth that around every circle another can be drawn; that there is no end in nature, but every end is a beginning, and under every deep a lower deep opens."

- Ralph Waldo Emerson

The bold and the bashful

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Tue, 14 May 2013 23:36:00 +0000

Flowers do have personalities, don't you think?

Shades of pink and purple

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Fri, 03 May 2013 14:43:00 +0000

The kiss of the sun for pardon,

The song of the birds for mirth,

One is nearer God's heart in a garden

Than anywhere else on earth.

~Dorothy Frances Gurney, "Garden Thoughts"

A caress and a consolation

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Fri, 19 Apr 2013 01:08:00 +0000

"What delights us in the spring is more a sensation than an appearance, more a hope than any visible reality. There is something in the softness of the air, in the lengthening of the days, in the very sounds and odors of the sweet time, that caresses us and consoles us after the rigorous weeks of winter."

- Philip Gilbert Hamerton

I'd like to think that this is the reason I'm so dissatisfied with all of my photos,

why something seems to be missing from them -

it is impossible, after all, to capture the essence of Spring in a photograph.

But I try just the same.

Sunshine for the heart

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Fri, 22 Mar 2013 23:57:00 +0000

It is technically Spring, but the days are still cool and the nights cold.

I bundle up for my morning walk with Marty

I become impatient this time of year - so ready to put away the coat and gloves.

Ready to be surprised every day by a new bloom. Tired of the gray and brown and

ready for the color of Spring blooms.

And then I round the corner. This glorious stand of forsythia comes into view

and instantly I feel warmer. The air is just as cold but my heart has been warmed.

Sweet on the Sweet Gum

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Sun, 03 Mar 2013 23:41:00 +0000

Yesterday I was playing hopscotch with two of my young grandsons. Instead of a pebble to toss on the board, we used a Sweet Gum ball. If you have Sweet Gum trees in your garden, it's good to look for creative uses for those seed pods - you will have an abundant supply of them.

They begin to drop in late fall and continue into the spring. The pods still line the curb in some spots on my morning walk. Most days, I pick one or two out of the soles of my shoes.

And, along with leaves and pine needles, they linger at the end of my driveway.

On close inspection, nestled in the grass, they look beautiful but dangerous.

As a gardener I find these sticky balls to be a nuisance, but a worthwhile nuisance. The Sweet Gum tree is a valuable native providing beauty as well as food and shelter for birds and some insects.

The complex nature of the seed pods is a reminder of the marvel of nature.

A quick search of the internet provides several resources for creative ideas using the pods, from a tutorial on making a wreath for your front door to a YouTube video in which a 7 1/2 year old demonstrates how to make a star ornament, to a beautiful pair of silver earrings.

Sweet Gum seed pod crafts are so popular, that the pods themselves are

sold on Etsy and ebay. I'm not interested in selling my Sweet Gum balls, though.

I'm saving them to use as a slug and snail deterrent.

Maybe next year I'll make that wreath.

Something infinitely healing

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Sat, 23 Feb 2013 01:12:00 +0000

"Those who contemplate the beauty of the earth find reserves of strength that will endure as

long as life lasts. There is something infinitely healing in the repeated refrains of nature --

the assurance that dawn comes after night, and spring after winter."

— Rachel Carson (Silent Spring)

It is cold, wet, and dreary.

February - the shortest month - always seems the longest.

The crocus, the hyacinth, the daffodil - have told me that

Spring will come - that it will be worth the wait.

Today the snowdrop joined the chorus.

And this bloom - on an unidentified early blooming tree by the side of the road -

called to me. It wasn't much to look at from a distance.

But if I look at it close-up it's as if Spring is already here.

I am linking up for the first time with Tootsie's Flaunt your Flowers for Fertilizer Friday.

So much more than a weed

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Wed, 13 Feb 2013 01:29:00 +0000

What do you suppose the wind wished for when it blew on this dandelion?

How many seeds do you suppose it scattered?

The dandelion is so much more than a weed. It's a plant that's been around for 30 million years ago. Parts of it have been used to make coffee, tea, salads, wine, and root beer. It has medicinal properties and leaves abundant in vitamins. And it's inspired numerous festivals, including this one.

For more fascinating information on the dandelion, click here.

And give your dandelions a little respect.

Reflections

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Tue, 05 Feb 2013 01:46:00 +0000

“A lake is a landscape's most beautiful and expressive feature. It is Earth's eye;
looking into which the beholder measures the depth of his own nature.”
― Henry David Thoreau, Walden

Even puddles are beautiful and expressive on a bright winter morning.

Easing back in

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Tue, 22 Jan 2013 01:56:00 +0000

I've been away from my blog so long that I feel like a stranger. And the truth is that I've been away from my garden far too long as well. The absolutely necessary chores have been attended to. The birds are fed, the mulch and compost have been spread, the irises transplanted. The summer weeds were pulled (though the winter ones are now taking over). But my emotional energy was spent in other places this last year. Not only did I fail to write about the garden, I took fewer pictures. It feels as though I missed both summer and fall. My heart was elsewhere.
Blogging is like so many other things - the longer you neglect it, the harder it is to remember why you were doing it in the first place.
But I DO remember - I remember that all I wanted from this blog was a convenient way to keep a garden diary. And I remember that it became so much more than that - it became a link to a supportive network from all over the world, thanks largely to Blotanical. A link to inspiration, information, entertainment, encouragement and so much more. That network is still out there, of course, but I've removed myself from it. When I don't post, I don't read much either. I've missed it.
So - I'm easing back in. This week I carried my camera with me when I took Marty for his morning walk.

Around this corner

there are great mounds of forsythia that have already begun to bloom.

And just next door this early blooming tree (an Eastern redbud?)

has already shed many of it's fragrant blossoms.

The early morning light brightens my spirits after several gray and dreary days.

As do the crocuses and the hyacinths

peaking up from beneath the leaves.

It is still winter, but my spirits are lifted thinking about what's to come.

"Every gardener knows that under the cloak of winter lies a miracle ... a seed waiting to sprout, a bulb opening to the light, a bud straining to unfurl. And the anticipation nurtures our dream."

- Barbara Winkler

Early light

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Fri, 26 Oct 2012 12:38:00 +0000

A fall morning

The early light cuts through the mist.

It's almost as if a window in heaven has opened

to give us a glimpse of the glory.

A visit from Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Mon, 15 Oct 2012 01:11:00 +0000

"In fact, millions of butterflies were all around us—vast fluttering waves of them, dipping down into the woods and coming back up around us again. It was a river of life and color, moving through the air."

from "Heaven is Real" by Dr. Eben Alexander.

I have always felt that a visit from a butterfly was akin to a visit from Heaven, and reading "Heaven Is Real" affirmed that feeling. Though I have done much to attract butterflies to my garden, they aren't so commonplace that I take them for granted. Even if they were in abundance, I would still be in complete awe of them.

Swallowtails, Painted Ladies, and others have been visitors this season.

Today a Monarch stopped by and stayed for a while, giving my heart and spirit a great lift.

"Nothing save the limit of your sight"

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Tue, 02 Oct 2012 01:05:00 +0000

"Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon,

and a horizon is nothing save the limit of your sight." Rossiter Worthington Raymond

I read this quote in a book given to my sister-in-law - a book by Hospice volunteers and nurses, I think. It's a comforting quote, reminding me that my brother's love lives on, that it's only my own earthly limitations that keep me from seeing him. My big brother, older by just 13 months, died of brain cancer August 19th.

In a post on The Blessing Bowl a couple of years ago I wrote about the bond I share with my siblings and included this quote from Anna Quindlen:

"'Flesh of my flesh,' they may sometimes say in the marriage ceremony, but it's just not true. It is not even true of our children who are part of us; part of someone dear to us; loved by us; but not made of what we are made of. But our brothers and sisters: Well, it is all the same clay."

The four of us on a trip to celebrate our youngest sister's 50th birthday in 2007.

Reading this quote now I am better able to understand why I feel as though I have lost an essential piece of myself. Why I sometimes feel unmoored, why I feel that someone has pulled up the family anchor and set my sisters and me adrift.

If you were a reader of this blog before this summer's hiatus you may remember my post from February 2011 in which I asked you to hope with me for my brother's recovery from surgery and for successful treatment. The surgery did go well. Radiation and chemo followed with an MRI every two months. Last fall one of those MRIs showed new tumor growth - inoperable this time. Gamma knife surgery followed, then Avastin (a drug that "starves" the tumor and inhibits growth) and more chemo. Hope remained strong and Rick was buoyed by love and support from friends and family. In June there was another setback - another tumor - another gamma knife treatment. It became obvious that the disease was no longer under control. My brother opted to stop chemo. In mid-July when I was there for a visit it was obvious that the disease was progressing more rapidly that any of us expected. I began making the nearly 4 hour drive most weekends to spend time with him. My sisters were there, too, with my brother's wife, twin sons, and step-daughter. My husband and brothers-in-law joined us when they could. On the night I arrived for my last visit, we gathered in the bedroom and shared a meal - I think there were 8 of us sitting on the bed, the floor, and in chairs around my brother's hospital bed. The next morning he was unable to swallow or speak. Soon he lapsed into a coma. We continued to sit with him, talking to him, bathing his forehead with a cool cloth, and holding his hand until he died a few days later.

Three generations of family gathered the next weekend for a beautiful memorial service and time together at the place we all love on Lake Norman. I updated my Facebook status with this:

Comfort has come from many sources this past week - your prayers and kind words, services at Oakwood Cemetery and Myers Park Presbyterian, and the in gathering of three generations of Witheringtons at this place by the water that my brother Ricky loved and we all love so much. The youngest generation tubed, swam, ate watermelon, and argued about which of them was having the most fun. Their parents sat on the porch over cocktails and put the little ones to bed on air mattresses. The sun set and the grandparents gave thanks for the life that was and the life that is.

Life goes on, one day at a time. The garden remains a comfort and a form of therapy and I plan to be sharing it with you again soon.

For the last post about my brother on his Caringbridge site, go here.
For my sister's blog post about my brother's last summer, go here.
For his obituary, go here.

Sultry as a summer evening

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Tue, 05 Jun 2012 01:27:00 +0000

"Sultry as a summer evening and as intoxicating as an exotic perfume, the scent of gardenias settles like a memory onto your soul. The blossoms are just as enticing. Buds shaped like seashells unfurl into velvet soft flowers in the warmth and humidity of early evening. But it's the fragrance that captivates."

from Southern Living "A Fragrance That Captivates"

The gardenias are in bloom throughout my neighborhood and the scent is everywhere, including just outside my door. It's a scent that I think of as purely Southern, though the plant originated in the orient. And it's a scent that tells me summer is here. I'm tempted to tuck a bloom behind my ear, Billie Holliday style.

This is the time of year when I long for a sleeping porch - a screened bedroom where I could feel the night breezes, smell the gardenias, and wake to the birds singing.

The young birds are everywhere in the garden now. Cardinals, brown thrashers, towhees, and robins.

Most of the nests are out of sight, but a pair of robins built a nest just off of our deck where I was able to keep watch until they fledged.

So much has been happening in the garden, and I've not had time to record it here - unless I wanted to give up my garden time for blog time. I do have photos and hope to share some more of them soon.

A graceful progression

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Wed, 25 Apr 2012 01:28:00 +0000

When we bought our house almost 9 years ago, we discovered a Rhododendron wrapped in ivy in our back yard. We uncovered it, and a couple of years later we were thrilled to see blooms. A little research leads me to believe it's a Rhododendron 'Catawbiense Grandiflorum'. These plants are common in my neighborhood, blooming just as the azaleas are fading.

Ours has grown both in size and in number of blooms. It's a welcome plant both summer and winter, with it's evergreen foliage and bright Spring blooms.

But to really appreciate its beauty you need to look more closely.

Do you see the bee?

Don't you love the graceful progression from bud to flower?
I'd love to think that as we age we open up with great beauty the way flowers do.

Bearded ladies and early arrivals

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Thu, 12 Apr 2012 01:38:00 +0000

I have some beautiful bearded ladies blooming in my garden, in multiple places. This is one of the first blooms to open and shares company with the columbine and the fragrant white iris in the back garden.

The one below, just beginning to open, is in the front border surrounded by many others.

I planned this bed so that the Spring blooms would be primarily pinks and whites

with some nice foliage mixed in.

Husker Red Beard Tongue

Azalea

Pittosporum

Igloo Doublefile Viburnum

White Indian Hawthorn

But our warm winter and early spring encouraged the summer residents to make an early appearance. The summer blooms are all hot colors - like this.

Arizona Sun Gaillardia

The coreopsis is beginning to bloom, too, but it isn't as much of a misfit.

In fact, it brings out the yellow in the irises.

I'm enjoying these early arrivals, even if they aren't color-coordinated.

I don't think I'll ever complain about blooms - and I don't think the bees and butterflies will, either!

For the origin of the irises see this post from last April.

Something new every morning

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Fri, 30 Mar 2012 01:24:00 +0000

The transformation in my garden over the last week has been amazing. We're at that stage of Spring when every morning brings some new bud or bloom or bright green shoot peeking out from the leaves. The Chestnut Oak has begun to toss its tassels everywhere, on top of the yellow layer of pine pollen,

but it's a small price to pay for all of this new life.

We spent the weekend away from the garden, at the family lake house where I spent a lot of

time watching the bluebirds from the porch.

The ducks made an appearance, too.

And the sunset was amazing.

When we arrived home, the bees were visiting the crabapple blooms

and the columbine was budding.

This morning, I was greeted with a beautiful bloom and the sight of many more buds. The columbine is one of the first plants that I started from seed, and it gives me extra joy to see them bloom.

The penstemon is standing tall and budding while the thyme is covered in tiny white blooms.

Hosta is poking out of the ground in some spots and well on its way above ground in others.

So much to enjoy now, and so much to look forward to (with my new gardening companion by my side)!!

"The year's at the spring"

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 01:39:00 +0000

Spring has been unfurling in dramatic fashion over the last week so that tomorrow, on the official first day of the season, my garden is going to be ready! I spent Saturday cleaning up and pulling weeds, trying to get it ready for the fast pace of unfurling ahead.

The fiddleheads of the ferns are one of the most welcoming sights, unfurling one after another. This act of unfurling practically shouts "Spring" (type "spring unfurls" in a google search, and you'll find link after link to photos and blogposts.)

While the ferns unfurl in the corners of the shade garden, the Sassafras buds open and reach for the sky.

Native to the Eastern U.S., Sassafras is a favorite of birds, flowers in spring and provides beautiful fall color. It loves the conditions in my garden and grows and multiples rapidly - we are often pulling up seedlings that spring up where they aren't wanted.

The azalea buds swelled and began to open in just a matter of days this past week, as did the blooms on one of our dogwoods.

And the Chestnut Oak is waving its tassels, ready to fling them onto my deck.

When I look up at the budding trees, it's like a pastel version of fall - so much soft color. But this color is the beginning of a season, not the end, and promises so much beauty to come.

"The year's at the spring
And day's at the morn;
Morning's at seven;
The hillside's dew-pearled;
The lark's on the wing;
The snail's on the thorn;
God's in His heaven -
All's right with the world!"
- Robert Browning

Wordless Wednesday - Nearly Full

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Thu, 08 Mar 2012 02:26:00 +0000

May the burdens of the day rest lightly

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 01:57:00 +0000

“May the raindrops fall lightly on your brow.

May the soft winds freshen your spirit.

May the sunshine brighten your heart.

May the burdens of the day rest lightly upon you,

and may God enfold you in the mantle of His love.”

Irish Blessing

Those first green shoots

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Mon, 20 Feb 2012 01:51:00 +0000

"Before the seed there comes the thought of bloom."
- E. B. White

It's a cold rainy night with a prediction of snow in the wee hours of the morning.

While the rain falls and the wind blows, I'm cozy inside dreaming of seeds and blooms and thinking of the green shoots appearing in my garden.

I'll be ordering some seeds later tonight, but there are a few blooms that I won't have to wait for.

This African Daisy has survived all winter in a container on my deck.

This bud and another appeared this week. It's my hope that tonight's cold snap won't destroy them.

And one of my favorites, the pincushion flower, has begun to bloom. I love the way it looked earlier this week in the morning light with raindrops glistening on it. It's not a showy flower, but a reliable one that blooms much of the year. When it's at it's flowering peak in the Spring, I love to use it in little nosegay vases with dianthus blooms.

Yesterday was a warm day, and the rain earlier this week softened the ground around the weeds making them easier to pull out by hand. I spent several hours cleaning and clearing the beds all the while thinking of how it would be transformed in just another month or two. I was reminded of the scene in "The Secret Garden" when Mary first discovered the tender shoots of green, for there were shoots of green everywhere in my garden - daffodils, Easter lilies, columbine, daylilies, salvia, sedum, verbena, and more.

“However many years she lived, Mary always felt that 'she should never forget that first morning when her garden began to grow'.”
― Frances Hodgson Burnett, The Secret Garden

Each year, when the green shoots appear, it's like a miracle all over again -

as if it's the first time those green shoots have appeared. What joy!

Is this what we wait eagerly for - not the blooms - but instead the first signs of new growth?

Even though the winter has been warm and we have early and unexpected blooms, the thrill that I receive from the miracle of Spring will not be diminished.

Puffed up against the cold

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Mon, 13 Feb 2012 02:25:00 +0000

"The sound of birds stops the noise in my mind."
- Carly Simon

"To me, the garden is a doorway to other worlds; one of them, of course, is the world of birds. The garden is their dinner table, bursting with bugs and worms and succulent berries."
- Anne Raver

Listening to and watching the birds in my garden is one of my favorites ways to relax -

watching them and listening to their song does stop the noise in my mind.

The birds were busy outside the window all day yesterday. They were at the feeders, in the leaves and grass, on the fence, in the trees - and all puffed up to keep themselves warm against the cold wind.

American Robin

Male Cardinal

The Cardinal and Robin keep watch on the fence.

The female Cardinal perches on the birdhouse.

A Dark-eyed Junco in the grass.

Digging for insects under the leaves.

White throated Song sparrow

Dove

Downy Woodpecker

These are just a few of the birds that I see in my garden. The Tufted Titmouse, Blackcapped Chickadee, Carolina Wren, and a variety of Finches are frequent visitors to the feeder, along with several other woodpeckers. For an earlier post on birds and more photos, go here:
http://www.ginnysgarden.blogspot.com/2010/04/what-wondrous-beings-these.html

You might also be interested in Debra's post at Gardens Inspired and Karin's post at Southern Meadows. Debra give tips on how and why to attract birds to your garden and Karin provides a link to a checklist for the upcoming Great Backyard Bird Count.

Are you counting birds in your garden?

Early bloomers and anticipation

noreply@blogger.com (Ginny) — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 02:49:00 +0000

The garden is a mess of dry brown stems and bright green weeds. Both are in abundance

and it's obvious the gardener hasn't been in attendance.

But the early bloomers are showing their colors, and I'm eager to get out and start the clean up - getting the garden ready for those Spring days when it feels like everything is happening at once.

The hellebore is my favorite early bloomer, with its demurely nodding blooms.

The violas have such a different personality, with their dainty perkiness.

The first blooms of the Carolina Jessamine are tiny wallflowers that I have to search out,

but I hope to have a fence full of blooms in a few weeks.

The pink carnation has been producing it's small frilly blooms all winter,

though they're smaller and less abundant than in warmer months.

Though I'm eager for the days to lengthen, to have an entire warm day to get my hands in the dirt, I don't want to hurry time - I want to take it slow. I want to find joy in the anticipation. And then I want to look long at each new green shoot, at every opening flower bud, and cherish the miracle.