Reminiscing about all the gardens I have started and left behind in this lifetime, I am now back in the garden– deadheading, weeding, feeding, watering, and happy as a lark, I might add. Always yearning for cheerful faces of various flowers, I recall an entire weekend when I was left alone; a lightbulb came on in my head and suddenly I was hungry to create something beautiful in my double garage. Traveling to Michael’s, it took no time for me to gather stencils, brushes, paints in brilliant blues and yellows, greens and grays for shading. I couldn’t return home fast enough. I painted borders on the walls, climbers on the poles, trim on the doors. I even threw in picket fence. It was one of the most therapeutic processes encountered through the love of flowers. Just before Sunday evening I doused with a floral spray. When my husband returned home, he raised the garage door and drove into my over-the- top, but breath-taking garden of Morning Glories. As least, I thought so. Surprise!