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"valentine "

I gave my love flowers for Valentine’s day.

Well, sort of.

I planted her a garden outside our bedroom window. It’s not much to look at now. In fact, the soil conditioner smells a bit like dung.

All you can see now is the tiny purple flowers of the Lobelia and the craggy stalk of the rose bush.

But there are also a dozen gladiola bulbs 4 inches beneath the soil.

And the lobelia will fill out to be a violet blanket.

And the rose bush (named “Lasting Peace” on the metal tag attached to it) will produce orange-red buds that “open to reveal ever-changing hues of amber and copper.”

Chocolates are a moment of oral bliss. Cut flowers are a glimpse of beauty before they begin their slow wilt of death. Nice momentary experiences, but they hardly demonstrate the depth of the love I feel.

Only a living garden could show my feelings.

Planted flowers represent growth, cycles, and natural miracles. And *that* is exactly the gift I wanted to give my love.

 


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