Weary of ice and snow, she longs to have her morning tea on the veranda and knows that she will not be doing that for months. A little bright color right about now would be grand, and it would vastly appreciated too.
On a trip to the local organic market, a tin bucket of bright tulips catches her eye, and she scoops up a large bunch, carrying them home in her arthritic paws as tenderly as if they were fledgling birds. Arrayed in an old glass vase (a flea market find from last summer), the glossy lipstick red blooms and bright green leaves don't just light up the day - they light up just about everything else too.
She resolves to keep a pot, a tin, a bucket or a vase of something flowering near the southern window. She thinks how beautiful a single rose will look there come summer, and it seems to her that this is not just about a vase of tulips or a single rose, but about all the boundless gardens of the earth coming into riotous intoxicating bloom.