Step inside the summerhouse and stay a little while, Walk beneath the palm fronds across terra-cotta tile. Feel the sweet, damp air, warmed by sunlit windows, Smell the lush green foliage, the blossoming primrose. Birds sing their cheerful melodies, perched in Victorian cages, Their songs are soothing remedies, familiar through the ages. Water cascades transparently and trickles into pools, Tiny droplets catch the sun and sparkle like rare jewels. The garden in the summerhouse blooms in every season, Year-round it is paradise–for this there is a reason: Inside there is protection from the chilling winds that blow, and the threat of killing frosts that lay the young blossoms low. Deep inside the summerhouse is a refuge from the storm, A place that’s green and lush, a garden safe and warm. Step inside your summerhouse and stay a little while, Your cares will all evaporate on terra-cotta tile.

by Greg Olsen