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Heavenly Garden

Flora Bloom had a gift. From an early age she had a way with flowers. Perhaps her interest in gardening was due to the combination of her first and last name, an unintended byproduct of her being named after her maternal grandmother. Whatever the reason, Flora seemed able to commune with the plants under her care with particular skill, speaking to them as if they were aware of her words. Indeed, she was the true embodiment of what one would want in a gardener.

It was in some way, a compensation for another aspect of her life. Unfortunately, Flora was unattractive, her features stark and unappealing to those of the opposite sex. When she was young, her playmates were often cruel, taunting her because of her looks. Her parents hoped that she would blossom into a desirable woman, and an acceptable mate for some lucky man, growing into her beauty gradually, as some are prone to do.

But such was not the case for Flora, who even in her prime lacked the physical qualities normally sought after by men. She had always secretly wished for good looks, but instead had been forced to endure the embarrassment of other's thoughtlessness. With age, she had been able to dismiss the cruelty of her former classmates, but her lack of a companion and the overheard whispers of those more fortunate were difficult for her to bear.

She had seen the women she had grown up with marry and have children, knowing in her heart that the only children she would ever have would be botanical in nature. And so she remained single throughout her entire life, being known locally as The Spinster Bloom, a miracle worker with plants, and so healthy that she was seen as positively vibrant.

As her friends and acquaintances aged and died, Flora survived and took her pleasure from the beauty she was able to create and nurture in her garden. Now, at sixty two years of age, her lack of a husband seemed inconsequential, and the occasional memories of unkind words spoken by uncaring souls were less important to her.

She had her garden. In all its glory, her garden displayed bursts of color and vitality. Filled with the proof of her abilities, it was a testament to her affinity with plants. Her only regret was that it wasn't larger. Her small backyard couldn't possibly contain all that she wanted to grow, and she had no front yard to speak of. She had resigned herself at last to doing what she could to make her garden perfect, although she was never really satisfied.

It may have continued in that

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