Early in the morning, before the children are awake and while the grass is still dewy, I like to walk in my garden. It’s “my” garden only because it shares the same small plot of land my family and I inhabit. The garden does not really belong to me; I belong to it—at least for the short time...

As the first hint of green begins to peek through the barren ground As that little sprig grows into a healthy stem As that stem grows into a stalk and forms a bud As that bud slowly opens with each new day To form a yellow daffodil Let us be, like that first hint of green, renewed by the warm of ...

Speak, flowers, speak! Why do you say nothing? The flowers have the gift of language. In the meadow they speak of freedom, Creating patterns wild and free as no gardener could match. In the forest they nestle, snug carpets under the roof of Leaf and branch, making a rug of such softness....

There are two things we can learn from a daffodil to help ourselves and each other.