"At least his father hadn't lived his life by aversion, hadn't moved always away from what he didn't want, the old hybridizer not afraid to go toward things, to hope for things, to dream of things. At least his father's life had been pulled by sunlight, relieved by rain, urged by roots and leaves. Each daffodil, each tulip, every pane of glass in the greenhouse such a matter of life or death to the old hybridizer. At least his father cared about things and kept caring about them, the man caring so much that he didn't care if anyone else cared, which seemed to make people care, students and tourists and garden societies from the valley practically swooning their way up the hill to the greenhouses and gardens and gift shop, that jangle of bells on the door always ringing. At least the old man and his wife hadn't spent their days just hoping to feel, hadn't kept wishing their lives would just begin, hadn't wasted their nights just yearning to yearn for something."
"The Architect of Flowers Stories" The Architect of Flowers Stories
William Lychack
knockout
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