It is assumed that when reference is made to living in Canada a picture of the Great White North comes to mind.
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Let it be said that when the page of the calendar turns to December we are often at the mercy of Mother Nature. But alas, with a little ingenuity and a trip to the greenhouse, paradise is found.
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At the place where I purchase the first buds of spring, flowers for the window boxes and mums for the Fall garden, winter yields its palette of beauty.
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From the palest of pink to deep crimson en masse the poinsettias create a carpet befitting of royalty. Each delicate petal uniting to reflect the spirit of the season.
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Row upon row of vibrant cyclamen, heads bowed yielding to the awestruck observer choosing to take one home.
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There are silver-tipped ferns painted by fairies that flit about in the darkness sprinkling their magic sparkle (at least I imagine such). Or combination baskets that can be coaxed to spend the winter and released to the garden in the spring.
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A visit to such a place can cure the grey day doldrums and soothe the soul.