To answer this question, I need to go back to the garden of my childhood. Into that divine world of my childhood memories, where all the colors of the universe meet in one small garden. Where in the early morning the nightingale sings its song before sunrise, when the moon still does not want to give way to the sun, and the stars are already fading, announcing the arrival of a new day to the world.

And then a vision comes to me, yes, I remember this garden:
At the very beginning, lilac blooms, and roses of different colors bloom under it. Here, the orange buds are replaced by white petals, and the yellow color smiles at the red blooming flowers. Then the cherry blossoms and it reflects all the previously listed colors, and towards it, as if overtaking, the apricot blooms pink and purple. Slightly behind, peaches follows them, as if embarrassed by his own bliss. And the apple trees, like a mist, envelop with their white flowers all this richness and riot of nature, the miracle of the Lord. Pears and plums accompany the entire chorus of flowers. The cherry tree glows with scarlet pearls. And then into the arena, seemingly oblivious of time, at the beginning of summer, when the bloom of all others is fading into fruit, comes out in velvet bloom his Majesty, immortal of all, the flower of my Pomegranate.