Twilight View of My Mother's Garden

My mother's garden is always lovely.  Tonight, Mollie and I walked through the garden at twilight.  The garden hues subdued into a shaded beauty,  Lavender phlox,  draping blooms of basket of gold, dotted with sky blue forget me nots and spikes of grape hyacinth grow in dark dirt beds rimmed with blue grey dolomitic limestone rocks.  Under a budding spring green box elder tree, it bark supporting a garden of green moss and golden orange lichens, the leaves of white, blue green, and golden varieties of hosta speak through the dirt and uncurl.  Throughout the garden splashes of color, red, yellow, pink, orange and white as fuzzy flower buds open and crepe paper Iceland poppies bloom.

In the back garden, a bed of primroses in yellow, blue, pink, violet, and red share the garden with graceful tulips, yellow with red dust or red veins of flame, bright yellow,  pink and white with pink flames. A path of round stepping stones leads us around our childhood place house to the kitchen door.  The canyon sky has darken, as twilight passes.  Mollie and I enter through the kitchen door to settle for evening, and recall the loveliness of my mother's garden at twilight.