I love flowers. I love waiting for the first leaves of the snow drops to emerge from the cold ground. I love watching the round bud of a balloon flower gradually fill with color. I love cutting a bucket full of dahlias and zinnias to take back to the city.
And I am filled with tenderness at a tulip playing itself out, pollen spilling down, petals arching backward and filling with light before they drop. It is, somehow, all too beautiful.