I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree,
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast.
A tree that looks at God all day.
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair.
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fools like me.
But only God can make a tree.
The truth of the matter is that I love flowers as well as trees and as I've mentioned before, our home is in a clearing surrounded by tall oaks. What we have found out after spending thousands of dollars and countless hours that flowers don't do well here - it's not the shade as we've tried all of the shade varieties (a very few do grow) but the trees take so much moisture so it is very dry. I must be a slow learner, but it has taken 20 years to figure out why we bring home and plant the most gorgeous flowers only to have them tortured and die - we have finally figured out that we need to do container planting for flowers. BUT, we wouldn't give up the pleasure we get from our trees and all the creatures that love them as well.
That means that I have to create my own flowers - and my new book will combine machine needle and wet felting and every project will have flowers :-)