Growing up in a country that had just lost a war that it started itself -- no, let's not go down that rabbit hole -- I just wasn't raised to appreciate flags, or colors of flags, or anthems.
But I do adore fireworks, both the bright-lights-and-noise kind and other, more subtle celebrations. I'm especially lucky this year because I get my own private show every evening.
In the morning, you just see stakes and sticks, and a few drying out leaves at the bottom. But then, around 6:30 pm, just as the sun is setting, the first blossoms open up.
Soon, the visitors arrive, bumble bees for one last drink, and smaller pollinators. If I stayed up at night, I'd probably see the moth that is the main pollinator of this plant.
But all through the evening hours, I can enjoy the beautiful white blossoms, standing out against the slowly darkening garden.