I was strolling in a garden one day and spied an unusual flower. Some lesser discerning folk might overlook it, but it caught my eye. The more I pondered over it, the more intrigued I found it, for it possessed a subtle beauty that grew in my heart the longer I beheld it.
Then I noticed a rather fascinating thing. A rose, in full bloom stood perched near that flower, and it seemed to me that the rose appeared to bow to this peculiar flower! I had ne'er seen such a marvel! The rose, regarded by many the queen of blooms gave honor to a bloom that many might mistake for common!
I realized before I knew what had taken me that I was overcome by this most intriguing bloom. I wanted to care for it and nurture it, but how? It's subtle beauty, softness, and enduring strength set it apart from the other blooms. Not flashy or showy like the rose, that is plucked and fades away. I daren't pluck it or like her sister the rose she too would wither and fade.
Then my father's wisdom spoke to me. My father, the one-time warrior who spent his remaining years seeing, growing, and teaching others his craft. I ran quickly and returned with pot and trowel. I carefully dug around her, lifting her, root, earth, and all and carefully placed her in the pot. For preserving her roots and her native soil would allow her to thrive under my tender care.
I took her to mine own garden and lovingly planted her in rich dark soil, along with her own, that her roots, once bound could sprout anew. I tenderly watered her and ensured that she got ample sun to warm her to the roots, encouraging new growth as my father taught me. But I did not hide her away. There were other discerning folk who new of her beauty and cherished her as well. I invited those fine folk to visit her as fortune bid them that she may know that she is loved and that they come to see her in her new glory. And she knows that it is her they come to see, the Amaranth, and not the rose.
The end - for now
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