Flowers are a proud assertion that a ray of beauty
outweighs all the utilities of the world©Ralph Waldo Emerson
Srping Garden 2022©Isadora DeLaVega
Every season spills its
wonder upon the earth©Flavia
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Crimson Creative Challenge – #185
to join in click here
The funeral was exactly the way my grandmother wanted.
She pre-paid and planned it all before she died.
Always the forward-thinking woman, no one would be able to leave any details out.
The rose garden was to be her final resting place.
She’d say, “Where else would I want to be? These roses have helped me create beautiful paintings that will live on in the homes of many long after I’m gone.”
Her garden was magical. She could grow colorful varieties.
I’m sure she’s looking down at us and saying, “Pick up a paintbrush and make magic happen.”
2022©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
photo prompt©Dale Rogerson
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers Photo challenge
She was waiting for Pierre in the garden. He’d gone to get some wine for their moonlight stargazing tonight. He was always very romantic.
The floral scents engulfed her as she walked among the many
prize-winning tulips.
There were many varieties. Pierre was proud of his green thumb.
Turning, she saw him running towards her.
“Mona! My precious flower. The love of my life.”
Finally, he said it.
“Oh, Pierre!”
“Mona, my flower!”
“Oh, Pierre! I love you too!”
Pierre reached her. He knelt and moved her foot aside.
“My flower!” “You were standing on my prize-winning flower.”
2022©Isadora DeLaVega
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt:©Na’ama Yehuda
To join Rochelle and her Friday Fictioneers challenge
*****Do to alot of out of state visitors, I’ve edited an oldie but somewhat goodie from a FF 2017 story that goes well with this pix. Ejoy 😎 🌸 😍
Serene butterflies like lovely flowers …
May our hearts garden awaken bloom with hundreds of flowers©Thich Nhat Hanh
The carpenter we hired to help us restore an old farmhouse had just finished a rough first day on the job. A flat tire made him lose an hour of work, his electric saw quit, and now his beat-up pickup truck refused to start.
While we drove him home, he sat in stony silence.
On arriving, he invited us in to meet his family.
As we walked toward the front door, he paused briefly at a small tree, touching the tips of the branches with both hands.
When he opened the door, he underwent an amazing transformation. His tanned face is a wreath in smiles as he hugs his two small children and kisses his wife.
Afterward, he walks us to the car. We pass the tree, and my curiosity gets the better of me. I asked him about what I had seen him do earlier.
“Oh, that’s my trouble tree,” he replied.” I know I can’t help having troubles on the job and in life, but one thing’s for sure, problems don’t belong in the house with my wife and the children. So I hang them on the tree every night when I come home. Then in the morning, I pick them up again.”
He paused. “Funny thing is,” he smiled, “When I come out in the morning to pick ’em up, there ain’t nearly as many as I remember hanging up the night before.” ©anonymous
2021©Isadora DeLaVega
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Challenge:
Every Wednesday Crispina will post a photo like this one above.
You respond with something CREATIVE
to join in click here
Knowledge is like a garden;
if not cultivated,
it cannot be harvested.
©Isadora DeLaVega
Challenge:
Every Wednesday Crispina will post a photo like this one above.
You respond with something CREATIVE
to join in click here
Inside the Mind of Isadora 