Flowers

My new bulb garden is in bloom. I had forgotten how exciting a bulb garden can be. Suspense and wonder, as things come up. The pictures in the catalogue have faded in memory. The planting map is lost in the file cabinet. Every morning I look forward to stepping out onto my stoop, two feet above the garden. I peer through the lattice of the small front porch. Anything new? These days the answer is always "yes". I open the picket fence's gate and step onto the paving stones I laid in late Summer. Hyacinths (grape and miniature), tulips, Grecian wild flowers, daffodils, crocus. I confess to having planted the bulbs a bit too neatly. My pattern is all too obvious, but I am very happy with it. My Chinese-American neighbors are tending their jasmine vines and peach tree with heavy doses of lethal insecticide. My neighbor across the lane sits on his stoop to admire the new leaves sprouting on his ornamental dwarf apple. Spring is bringing us out and bringing us together. And the flowers, always shining and always dying at the same time, bring us a common joy.