The week before Christmas

Petunias remind me of my mother. She planted them every year so they would be smiling by Christmas. That is all petunias ever have to do. Smile. They come in delicate punnets. They are fragile until they take root for themselves. They need gentle hands to reassure them and help them find their place. Then they are with us for just one summer. They have no ambitions beyond that. They teach me a lesson about purpose and acceptance, two ideas that belong together. Our purpose is not to take over the garden. It is to accept our place amid all the other colour and variety; to make the best of our time while we have it. None of is are here for long but we are all here for good.