When I, Vincent, was a little boy in elementary school, fifth grade, my teacher, Mrs. Kramer, had us, the whole class, plant a flower bulb in a small flowerpot and place it on the windowsill of our classroom. Remembering the windowsill was broad and long, and the shades pulled up with strings. The teacher had to use a long wooden pole to open the windows. The end of the pole had a hook that fits into a slot in the window to pull it up or push it down.

Each student was responsible for watering their bulb, and their flowerpot was tagged with a label of a student’s mother’s name because the teacher said it would be in full bloom for Mother’s Day.

For months, watered a bulb in a flowerpot. Saw only dirt. Thought the bulb would not bloom on time. Two weeks later, before Mother’s Day, I saw a tiny green sprout beginning to protrude from the dirt. Every day it pushed up dirt and became a little bigger. So excited. Still, I thought it would not bloom for Mother’s Day.

Surprise, the next day, the little sprout shoots up. So excited to see life being born right before one’s eyes as the dirt broke and what emerged in full bloom was a glorious purple flower, and every day the petals open wider gracefully stunning.

A bulb was in full bloom,
What a Mother’s Day present!

Momma was very pleased. I was proud that this was at least, in part, a little man’s creation. From that point on, I always had an appreciation and love for flowers; this is how he came to love gardens, too.

A garden is a delight to the eye and a solace for the soul.” – Saai