The global implications for the war in Europe are huge. It can be overwhelming to address directly. So instead, my take on geopolitics at a grassroots level in this garden saga.

The Saga of the Beautifuls

Lily grows taller than the roses in this Garden. She wrinkles her ribbed petals open into an upside-down umbrella.

The Rose Sprays grow in clumps of threes and fours, spreading their petals in tight circles. They want to sun themselves and hope for a smell-drunk bee to fall into their eager bellies.

Prideful Lily spreads wide over them; her indulgent display casts a shadow on all the short flowers underneath.

“NO!” the Rose Sprays protest. “We need the sun, the glorious sun!” So, the Rose Sprays place their hopes in that wee sliver of sun that might slip through the gap between Lily’s far-flung grabby petals. Lily adjusts her angle. She cheekily stretches, closing up even the tiny sliver of hope.

The Rose Sprays pipe up under mumblings. The Rose Sprays schemed. “We could probably stab at Lily bit these thorns; we just need a breeze to reach over there…. or maybe our caretaker might show Lily some sense.”

Overhead, a bee lands inside Lily’s newly advertised pistil, erect and pointing to the sky.

In the Garden’s next row, the Freesias are fighting amongst themselves. One new bud is opening over the top of the older ones. Resigned sighs & self-imposed tremors came from the dilapidated white blooms below.

A stand of tulips watched silently. Most of the tulips are proper and keep stiff upper lips. They won’t fight out loud amongst themselves. In all the fuss, though, just one, Mr. Tulip is just beside himself. Can’t all those grumpy flowers just shut up! Mr. Tulip recently developed a rash of red among his set of yellow petals. He tilted his body slightly, hoping that the garden master won’t notice his red hue.

Orchid’s bold bloom is withering away in the other corner with potted fellows. She tries hard to keep her petals tight until the deceased blossoms fall. If she manages to stay gorgeous, she’ll get to hang out in the showroom just a bit longer.

Next to the Orchid is potted Hydrangea. She is super pregnant with tight unblossomed babies. She silently wishes the fighting Rose Spray & Lily would keep it down. Hydrangea needs all her energy to push through tiny bursts of purplish flowers. Her blooms are due to burst any day now.

Allison came out to look over her Garden. Allison is the keeper of the Garden, equalizer, and consummate adjuster of angles, positions, and hierarchies. All rules and orders were delivered under her watch. She noticed the bright blooming Lily. With a snip of her garden clippers, Allision brought the sun to the Rose Sprays. Allison: the peacemaker, and the murderer too. Allison returned indoors with Lily in her gloved hand to adorn her dining table. 

Sunny the Cat meandered into the Garden. He liked to play with the flowers unsupervised. He nuzzled Mr. Tulip and then gazed at the other flowers. Suddenly, Sunny pounced across the Garden and swatted at the base of the Freesia. A few older blooms fell to the ground. Casually, Sunny pawed at the dead flowers here and there. Allison popped her head through the window. “Stop that silly cat. That is MY Garden.”

The Orchid shuddered. The Hydrangea pushed a bit more. Mr. Tulip blushed deeper. The Rose Sprays sighed. The Freesias cried.