Read by Matilda Longbottom

Valentine’s Day buzzed through the high-school halls like a whirlwind of anticipation, but for me, it wasn’t about expecting grand gestures from my husband, John. As the girls chatted excitedly about what gifts they hoped to receive, I found myself explaining, yet again, that I didn’t need extravagant displays of romance. Their shock was palpable. “Not even flowers?” they gasped, incredulous. They couldn’t fathom a love without flourish.

John, my partner in all things, had nurtured my passion for gardening from the very beginning. Unlike his early days of farming for necessity, my love for plants blossomed from childhood memories of tending to small plots amidst the chaos of a bustling family. My uncle, a farmer, introduced me to the magic of growing things, and I was hooked. When John and I started our life together in Maine, we began our own gardening journey.

Our disagreements were as much a part of our love story as our shared passions. While John once doubted the necessity of weeding, I tirelessly tended to our garden beds. Yet, even in those moments of discord, his support never wavered. He may not have initially understood the allure of flowers, but he came to realize that they fed not just the body, but the soul.

John’s gestures of love were rooted in simplicity. A handpicked bouquet of pansies and Johnny-jump-ups spoke volumes, his understanding of my heart evident in every bloom. But it was his grandest gesture that truly captured the essence of our love. Inspired by a Winter adventure in Quebec, he transformed our backyard into a skating wonderland complete with ponds, benches, and twinkling lights. And amidst it all, he crafted a heart-shaped pond, a symbol of his love that echoed through the frozen landscape.

As I glide across the ice, under the canopy of stars, I reflect on the girls who yearned for fleeting gifts. For me, love is not measured in wilted flowers or sugary treats, but in the enduring moments crafted by hands that hold my heart. ❖

About the Author: Ellen Simone, a retired forester, teacher, and librarian, finds solace and joy in the simple pleasures of life. Gardening, building, and artistic pursuits fuel her boundless energy, a force of nature that defies all expectations. Her daughter affectionately christened her with the theme song, “The Flight of the Bumblebee,” a testament to her vibrant spirit. Like the chickadee, her spirit animal, Ellen flits from one passion to the next, leaving a trail of love and creativity in her wake.