We went all the way to the Netherlands for them.
To make it right. To make it ours.
They were supposed to be colorful.
That’s what we thought.
But when they bloomed,
they turned red.
And somehow,
that felt better.
Every spring, we try to protect them.
The deer always find them first.
We moved them more than once.
Changed their place.
Tried to decide where they belong.
But there are always a few left behind.
And now,
they grow in places we didn’t plan.
Quietly.
On their own.
some things choose their place on their own