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Stunted by limits of it's environment little bush was easily missed as it continued to grow. That is until that one special moment, that special morning when bush would produce a single bloom.
It was a morning like every other for "perfect" gardener.
While bending over to clip a bud morning breeze changed direction and with changing breeze "perfect" gardener was suddenly able to notice a fragrance so perfect and sweet.
The fragrance was captivating.
Immediately without a clip "perfect" gardener stood in surprise. As gardener scanned field of thorny bushes, gardener quickly realized, there was not a single bloom to be seen.
Franticly gardener began to search field for source of alluring fragrance.
The "perfect" gardener went from corner to corner, and even zigged and zagged across field of thorny bushes and still not a bloom was to be seen.
At wits end, and gardener's frustration peaked a break was needed. The gardener move quickly away from field.
As luck would have it, once again, morning breeze would change direction.
The alluring fragrance would have gardener change direction and eagerly begin to survey surrounding areas of field. The anticipation of finding source of such a fragrance was almost to much to bear.
To gardener's left, near a pile of discarded rose bushes, and hidden amongst weeds was a color that seemed out of place, a color that didn't seem to belong.
Moving quickly to see, morning breeze would confirm gardener was en route to source of captivating fragrance. Breaking into a full stride gardener moved toward clump of weeds.
Once gardener was upon clump of weeds, rose, "perfect bloom," was now plain to see. Quickly pushing weeds away, gardener kneeled to take in magnificence of perfect bloom.
As "perfect" gardener held perfect bloom a question came to mind; "how?" How could such a perfect rose bloom be found on such a bush?
In fact rose bush was more like a short crooked twig with many thorns and a few leaves.
Standing slowly gardener looked in disbelief. It was difficult to know how a bush, which was thrown away, could survive as it did.
The morning had come and gone as gardener now looked at field of thorns. The questions were many. All work, and all time, how could this be?
The gardener would spend next few mornings amongst weeds enjoying perfection of such a bloom.
As perfect bloom began to fade gardener asked "what is next?" With a smile once "perfect" gardener started tending weeds.
No longer would gardener hurry to clip buds, no longer would gardener hurry to examine a bush, and no longer would gardener discard a bush.
This season gardener's heart would fill with joy as field of thorns became a field of blooms.
No longer would gardener wait for such a perfect bloom. The once "perfect" gardener could now see perfection in each of many blooms.
The perfection gardener once tried so hard to create now was easy to see.
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