The dahlias at this time of year are pruned down to mere skeletons. This plot of land resembles a cemetery, containing the secrets and sighs that are only released when Spring unveils herself. While others pass by convinced that there's nothing of value to see, I stand still here, enamored by this sight. I imagine what the same part of land will look like in June, bursting with magenta and coral dahlias. 

Seasons are the best metaphors for life. They teach us to recognize the beauty and lessons in the present moment, knowing that it too, will eventually shift and change. Without sadness, the experience of constant happiness would feel flat. Without emptiness, it's hard to appreciate fullness. Without a stark winter, spring wouldn't appear as vibrant and magical. For me, this dahlia garden in the dead of winter represents hope and potential and things that soon will be. Like you. Like me.