One of the things that gives me the greatest pleasure in life is to create beauty wherever I can. I think I’ve done a pretty good job and others tell me that my creations give them pleasure too. Just this morning I finished underplanting some roses with violas. They arrived as an unexpected but gracious gift from the hand of a garden deva, sprinkling seed as she passed by my strawberry bed. They look splendid and survived the move without the least wilting. Their happy little faces smile up at me every time I go out to that part of the garden. Such a counterpoint to my inner garden. This beautiful but fragile place was visited recently by a dark angel. Swooping in on huge sun-annihilating wings, accompanied by storm and fire she spread salt and brimstone hither and yon. What inner beauty I had cultivated there withered. The landscape is a barren wreck and now I am left to wander within my self-garden seeking for life, the tiniest jewel of grass blade or flower bud. Like Demeter seeking her stolen child I am world-damningly bereft. It is my fervent prayer that my internal winter will pass and once again new life will be restored; that the happy smiling faces of my soul violas will once again brighten my inner garden. As I think of them I begin to imagine the new creation that can rise up from the ashes within. A new garden, even more beautiful than before.