I once dug a flower bed adjacent to a first floor apartment patio, outside a sliding glass door. I edged the beds with a brick my grandfather had gathered from a fallen pile of brick rubble in Detroit. I filled it with top soil from the nursery, carrying the bags from car to bed myself. I planted impatiens and roses and Dusty Miller, which looks prettier the second year when it gets stalky. I even fertilised the beds with fish emulsion. I gave that up when I moved away in 1998, and left the bricks behind. Now, it's enough to celebrate spring by capturing pictures in the planters of Grand Haven, a landscape garden outside Lemon Creek Winery or a road side garden on one of my walks. Even wildflowers growing on a road embankment will satisfy my color need, my camera's lens.