After a week of wet, the garden has returned to luscious green. Grass springing up beneath my feet. Peas and beans twining their ways up the poles in the vegetable patch. Cabbages bursting their bounds. Beetroot ripe for the picking. At the top of the garden, my Dad’s wildflower patch raises banners of rainbow hue, blowing in the breeze. The sweet peas bless the air with their fragrance. As I pass by the border, there, in the heart of a lupin, a diamond glows.