We are privileged to live at a time and in a place where sheer unadulterated pleasure is readily available to us. Where, in clement weather and time of year, we have made a little family tradition of embarking on a garden inspection each morning, post-breakfast.

We exit from our breakfast room through the patio doors onto the deck that stands above our backyard, inviting our two little dogs to accompany us. And as they range about our small plot of land, sniffing, detecting the night-time presence of raccoons out for their casual forays, we look about at the various foliage-and-floral offerings on display, in a succession of bloom-times that delight us no end.

From the tulips and fritalleries, the hyacinths, anemones and bleeding hearts, to the clematis, the roses, the peonies, Canterbury bells and poppies and all that acclaim and herald their entrance into the springtime garden on the way to summer.

The presence of these beautiful creations of nature satisfy a deep aesthetic need and an even more vestigial assurance that while some things may be ephemeral, swiftly passing us by, nature's elemental presence assures that existence continues for her creatures, regardless.