That old garden in the roses

Saturday, February 24—more snow.  We woke up to more snow… it all started with a light dust of snow that as the day progressed, it quickly turned into some big puffs that soon covered every inch of ground in our little world.

And it snowed all-day-long.  Plunging temperatures. Blustery winds. Pitch darkness by 6 p.m. The polar bear is definitely not my spirit animal.  My heart is full of summer dreams, and I’m fancying warm southern days and pyramids of tall green trees.  And there’s a garden in my dreams I’ve already seen.  I remember this and this and this…

And I remember this too...

 

Would I see all this again?  Are all these glories I see in these old photographs still here?  Could it be possible?  Because all I see now in my garden is emptiness, and white white white... nothing else.  No flowers, no bushes, no petals.  I can hardly believe I once had all that beauty contained in my very own backyard… what would I be seeing here this spring and summer will be a total surprise.  I just don't know.  Would all those roses of yesterday come back again this year?—to greet me back home, to enchant my heart again with petal dreams, and pastel shades of pinks?   I can only wait, and hope.