The Aroma Of Orchids
The garden was filled with a thousand heartaches. Grandpa always said people felt safe telling the flowers their secrets. His garden was wild, stretching into the woods behind his house, with hand-placed trails to keep the undergrowth safe. Signs were carefully pinned into place along every fork, marks for the unexpecting wanderer. When we had a day to ourselves, we would sneak into the woods, searching for plants we had never seen. I could remember him stopping to sniff every flower in the garden, sometimes picking petals or leaves from the tendrils of undergrowth. Everything he picked made its way into the teapot at the end of the day. It steamed away as we sat on the back porch, overlooking our wild hunting grounds.