. . .is not a Bradford pear, or daffodils, or forsythia yellow enough to make your eyes bleed. It's this.
This is the view from our dining room. Some would call it a feted swamp. I call it a symphony of frogs, a vast painting of the one color I longed for through the winter. As I watch the skunk cabbage perform its yearly miracle of unfolding, as I walk along the edge and peer into the landscape of unexpectedly tropical-looking leaves, my breath is stolen by the beauty. As a gardener, I hope that one day I might achieve the perfection that nature has so casually left lying in my backyard.