I have the most spectacular garden in the neighborhood. In the springtime, my garden is not only a riot of color and bursting fragrances, it is also a silent, but animate play constantly unfolding before my eyes. The cast of characters are all costumed in a variety of colors that impact the audience with the emotional equivalent of the music of a powerful orchestra.
The main characters, my bold and saucy tea roses, take center stage and demand the attention of their audience shouting, "Look at my soft red petals, my spiky green leaves". Secondary characters, lilacs and daffodils, flutter their petals as if in silent laughter at the secrets whispered to them by fluttering butterflies. The chorus line of pansies, garbed in gentle yellows and gold, add a hint of whimsy to the theme by swaying in concert to the rhythm of the wind.
Hummingbirds dart among the cast sipping nectar and ad-libbing scenes never dreamt of by the playwright. Bees buzz my heathers and the sexual interaction adds a hint of spice to the story. Geraniums weep morning dew and the drama rises as the audience wonder about sad but hidden plot lines.
Every evening I sit in my porch swing and watch this play unfold. Every day I glean new insights about the meaning of each line and scene. The life and death struggles being played out before my eyes bear meaning to my own existence and touch my heart and mind. As night falls and draws its curtain, the play comes to an end. I am so moved I would stand and applaud but for the curious eyes of my neighbors. Surely such splendor deserves at least one curtain call. Encore!