As I walk through the tall arched wrought iron gates, I pause briefly to glance at a cherub faced sentry urging me down the pathway. Immediately, I’m greeted by a kaleidoscopic explosion of honey-colored buddleias, diffident irises and sweeping climbing roses painted in brilliant pinks surrounded by hedges of variegated hydrangeas each larger and more magnificent than the other.
I make my way through the fragrant bouquets and carefully contemplate each stepping stone that leads me closer to a brigade of darting dragonflies navigating above a lily pond. I stand in amazement at their magical dance until I notice the sweet scent of wild honeysuckle permeating my senses and that my affection is shared in nodding agreement by the beak of a fluttering hummingbird.
My sweet interlude is interrupted by the sound of my daughter’s voice urging me to join her under the gazebo for a glass of cold lemonade and we both sit to enjoy the splendor of our garden, my favorite place in the world.
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