This Enchanted Garden

Rising out of a conical pine,
appeared a tree of expansive line:
That was to be the very first sign
of this enchanted garden of mine.

Next was the vine with flowers of blue
that bloomed in summer, just one or two.
Then a smaller-leafed vine one year grew,
fragrant with flowers, more than a few.

Blossoms don’t normally turn on cue
from periwinkle to a white hue — 
staying alive in the winter, too,
covered with snow, but still in our view.

Magic exists in my garden’s loam
and follows me wherever I roam.
Maybe it’s done by a playful gnome,
who will forever make it his home.

I’ve no question that something divine
affected both the pine and the vine.
Transformation is in the design
of this enchanted garden of mine.