The old rabbit, Twenty-One, slowly packed his bags and started to head toward the garden gate, ready to meet Twenty-Two at the stroke of midnight.
Just as Twenty had given him instructions a year ago, he had made a few instructions for Twenty-Two.
But deep down, he knew the ideas and instructions he’d written down wouldn’t do Twenty-Two much good. He’d have to make his own way, just as he and all those years before him had.
Twenty-One did want to tell Twenty-Two not to worry too much about the weather. He would have little control over it. He could only control what he did with that weather. And Twenty-One thought he’d done a good job with the weather overall, even during that late summer dry spell.
He was particularly proud of how Carol spent an hour a day in the garden all through September and October, and what a difference it made. Was it his idea? Or her idea? No matter, he would encourage Twenty-Two to remind Carol to do that again, starting as soon as late in winter.
Twenty-One did wonder why Carol had chosen his watch to make a big fuss about violas. After all, it wasn’t as though she had just discovered them this past year. She had always put out big pots of violas and pansies in the spring. Again. no matter. He’d tell Twenty-Two that he should just step aside and let her plant those violas. They were pretty, after all.
As he glanced at his notes one last time, Twenty-One heard the chimes of the nearby church begin to strike the midnight hour. He hustled over to the gate, and just as he opened the latch, he saw Twenty-Two hopping towards him.
She had a spring in her step and a twinkle in her eyes and around her neck was a collar of violas.
“Oh, no,” said Twenty-One, “she’s into violas too? This is going to be quite a year around May Dreams Gardens. I should warn the garden fairies.”
But Twenty-One ran out of time, as most years did, and so as the clock chimed its finally chime, he started through the gate to greet Twenty-Two as she entered into the garden.
They barely had time to exchange hellos and goodbyes but Twenty-Two thought she heard something about violas.
“Are there enough violas here?” she asked. But there was no answer. Twenty-One was gone, turning the corner quickly and heading into the past.
“No matter,” thought Twenty-Two. “It’s my garden year now. I can’t wait to get started and see what flowers I can add. Oh, I do hope the weather cooperates!”
And then, to ensure a good start to the year, she made herself a cup of tea and began to read through the seed catalogs that were waiting for her.
“I really am going to make this the best gardening year ever,” she said to the garden fairies she knew were hiding nearby and checking her out.
Time will tell if she does!
Happy New Year, Twenty-Two!