These are new coverings with open hands to palms I invite one closer. Step to the locked foreboding gate. Grace, the beauty anchor, begs to be taught the rules of this garden. With stained-glass darkness the brilliant sun illuminates her shimmering eyes for the first real time. She asks for more words explaining this place, its well worn paths that lead to favorite flowers. She has simple wishes, to be admired, like the scent-less blossom sprayed with Kai perfume. Scent, her first lesson our trigger source she’s handed her very own bottle of the cherished aroma. We step to the next display a sunlight-craving climber, the wisteria vine that begs to be noticed. Grace is handed a see-through blouse, just as coastal winds make the ideal photograph. Standing against the railing, Grace steadies her balance she can’t help but stare the bees and their feeding, by instincts alone. They search feverishly coating their tiny bodies in nature’s golden pollen. Grace offers her demure wrist a most delicate of bracelets magically ties her to this magical garden. You can see true happiness all lined up in her eyes. Grace cherishes the offerings looking over shoulder she privately whispers, “Blessed are these remedies I promise to protect my time here in the garden.” There as the sun settles Grace steps forward slowly accepting the moonlit sky.