She loved to sit in her chair and simply watch. Watch as the sun rose in the early morning..and set at the end of each very long day. Watch as the shadows danced..as the colors faded. Watch as the cycles of life spun round and round.
She remembered that first seed..that first emerging shoot..that first blossom. She remembered - how surprised she was to find that something she'd planted actually bore fruit.
There was a time - she remembered - when she'd find herself bent over that garden bed - picking and poking and pruning and rearranging. Fixing it just 'so'...so that it was just as she'd planned and envisioned. Absolutely perfect in every which way.
Years passed. The flowers continued to blossom and grow...wild and out-of-anyone's control. The garden that she'd first planted - grew up and out and into itself. It had its own personality. Its own color. Its own strength.
Perhaps - it wasn't one that she imagined. Perhaps - it was. But after so many years - it was just how it is...and how she loved.