Whatever she planted grew as if by magic...; And I remember people coming to my mother's yard to be given cuttings from her flowers. I hear again the praise showered on her because whatever rocky soil she landed on, she turned into a garden. A garden so brilliant with colors, so original in its design, so magnificent with life and creativity, that to this day people drive by .... perfect strangers and imperfect strangers--and ask to stand or walk among my mother's art. I noticed that it is only when my mother is working in her flowers that she is radiant, almost to the point of being invisible except as Creator: hand and eye. She is involved in work her soul must have.