The life of a gardener is a never-ending battle between life and death. They strap on the hardiest battle gear they've got: straw hat, dirt dusted tennis shoes, and a mismatched patched pair of gloves. There are those days though, where the gloves don't really matter because underneath, the hands of a gardener are tender and tough with endurance all at the same time.

The dirt between the crevices of their fingernails and creases of finger are the remains of life added to the world around them. Their hands aren't dirty though- no! It colors hard work and compassion for lives whose emotions can never be spoken.

Planting is not simply placing a seedling into the ground and watering it here and there. The gardener has tickled tiny roots and given them a protected place. Every morning, just as the sun stretches its rays over the mountains, they sprinkle water over drowsy plants knowing the afternoon drought might capture a leafy life.

It is the F.P.P.: the Flower Protection Program. A default setting programmed into every gardener's mind because life is not easy. Fingers are bitten by guard dog thorns, stung by yellow and black striped kamikazes, and chilled by unsuspecting winter frost plagues. Midnight waves of slimy, shelled killers feast on the unprepared and feeble. In the end, the unlucky wilted flowers and crunchy brown leaves hang in defeat and give up.

The gardener does not give up though! The growing plants that survive wave after wave of attacks are sent through a boot camp. They are shaped tediously, each puzzle piece leaf and stem perfectly placed to become something beautiful in the future. Hands mold the earth once again while protecting their green thumb that whispers secrets to the dear flowers they caress so gently.

In the summer, chirping birds are their music and the breeze strums the leaves while frogs croak the bass in the nearby pond. Tall sunflowers with bright hopeful faces dance to the sun dreaming one day to reach the sky.

Finally, new pink, purple, red, and yellow faces pop and peek outside of their buds to see the new world around them while the tired gardener smiles under a shaded brim. The flowers' velvet soft petals reach out and cover the battle wounds on the battered fingers and leave a cool healing touch. It is the high five of a victorious planting season.

The flowers' confident colors flaunt pride for the rest of their lives until one by one they unknowingly fall asleep forever onto the ground, making the bed for the next seedlings' life to begin. The gardener doesn't waste time to act, because winter doesn't pose a threat at all.