Thyme After Time: Through the Smart Phone's GPS: Chapter Three, The Path

Spring Greens and Flowers with Honey and Tarragon Vinaigrette

My eyes were frozen wide open. My view of the garden, the outlines of flowers grew hazy. Shapes faded into blurs of color. Bright yellows, pinks and purples transformed into burnt oranges and dark reds and then brown. A stillness followed and the snow came. Sounds were muffled and the light faded. I knew I could bear it no longer. I lay in the cold darkness. I was alone, abandoned, frozen in a timeless winter with seemingly no escape.

As soon as I felt that it was the end, a dream hidden in the darkness that would never be, and the light was a distant memory, it returned once again; the light grew and grew. The sun shone and shades of green replaced the browns and greys and hope appeared once again. Through the cold frozen layers, I felt a glow and the warmth of spring rise and the stillness disappeared. The birds chirped My senses sharpened. The coldness melted around me and I could feel myself growing stronger, reaching higher toward the sun, the light, and the world was filled with new hopes, new possibilities and everything around me was an inspiration.

I was once again standing in the garden and the path lay before me. The roses were gone and I was once again a normal size. Did I see the white haired woman just at end of the path? There was still no sign of husband but a small table sat smack in the middle of the path upon which was placed a small luncheon plate. On the luncheon plate was a salad mimicking the garden path I stood on; a miniature path with cucumber replacing the stones and a wild lettuce greens lining the path. It was scattered with bright orange nasturtiums. A small note, EAT ME, was placed upon the salad. It was quite lovely. I heard a little 'Psssttt' and felt the tiniest of tugs at my feet.
I looked down and there stood a small nasturtium looking up at me waiting for my attention.

I smiled and knelt down and in the quietest child-like voice I heard a story. The cutest little flower remembered back to her roots in Peru. Spanish conquistadors brought her to Europe. She served King Louis XIV and became wildly popular. She grew to love a place named Monticello where a very nice man named Thomas Jefferson lived, although she said he kept calling her a fruit. She laughed about that. She then quietly asked if she could be included in a future garden of mine. She felt as if she was still relevant and useful. I looked at her quizzically.
"What do you mean relevant and useful?" I whispered to the small blossom.

"It's all over the garden. You intend to tear out all of the flowers that aren't useful and replace them with herbs and vegetables. I humbly ask that you not tear me out. I love this garden." Was that the morning dew on her petal or a small tear.
I suddenly felt terrible. Who knew that flowers had feelings? And if this little Nasturtium had been in service to kings and presidents, who was I to remove her from anywhere....and she was quite pretty; bright orange flowers with what looked like a little flame emanated from the inside of the petal. That flame might be the slight peppery bite that nasturtium is known for. Of course I wouldn't remove her from the garden.
I looked around and it seemed as though all of the other flowers meekly peeked around corners and bushes, brimming with a new hope; each having their own stories and roots, edible or not, waiting to share them with me.
The nasturtium asked me to try her in the salad and so I sat, humbled that I was able to partake in something that was truly amazingly beautiful...beauty within and out, giving of herself freely.
Was that the morning dew forming in my eyes?