Granma's Garden

I can still smell the frangipani, you know? It's funny how a scent can take you right back. Grandma's garden was… well, it was everything. A tangle of daisies, the bright, cheerful kind she always loved, and those tall, elegant lilies that seemed to glow in the twilight. She'd fuss over every bud, every leaf, like they were her own children. I remember her showing me how to gently hold a tulip, explaining how the petals felt like velvet. She knew every name, every secret to coaxing them to bloom. And her award-winning flower arrangements? They weren't just pretty; they were like little stories, each bloom placed with so much love. Even the 'waste' flowers, the ones we made from old newspapers, held a special kind of beauty. It wasn't just a garden, it was Grandma's heart, blooming in every petal.