Once upon a time, there lived a gardener. He was a very famous and special person. Everyone who had a chance to see him at least once was charmed by his kind manners, noble face, and graceful figure. He had a young disciple who loved flowers very much and wanted to be like his master.

A garden of the gardener was very beautiful indeed, with plenty of flowers of all possible kinds. The disciple just loved them all and took a bit care about every of them. He supposed that the gardener would teach him all his secrets, but the gardener taught him almost nothing. “Real knowledge comes from inside,” the master used to say to the young guy.

There was a pavilion at the very end of the garden where the master always went alone and the disciple wasn’t allowed. When the gardener came back from the pavilion, his face was shining and he seemed to be even more handsome and gentle. Needless to say, that disciple was very curious to know what the matter was.

One day, the gardener called his disciple and said, “I have to leave on some business; our king asked me to make a garden for him. It will take some time.”

“Don’t worry, my lord, go in peace,” answered the young man. “I will take care of our garden, all the flowers, trees, and plants!

The gardener looked around with a sad smile and answered:

“What are they to me? Just grass! Come, I’ll show you my only treasure!”

They came to the pavilion. The closer they walked, the brighter the world became around them and an unusual sweet fragrance filled the air. They went into the pavilion and there was a rose. The disciple stopped with his mouth open. He had never seen a flower like this before. It was big and yet gentle, the only flower on the stem with some thorns and leaves around.

“I beg you to take care of her only!” said the gardener to his disciple and left.

The young man stayed in his place, charmed by the rose…the more he looked at it, the more he wanted to watch. Suddenly, the rose smiled and said, “That’s enough for today.”

Since then, they met daily and spent a lot of time together talking about all possible things. If even the rose stayed in its pavilion, it was wise and knew a lot. This way, a day or two or maybe three went away…or maybe three months; the young man was completely lost in time…but one day, on his way to the pavilion, he saw something very bright, some new flowers; they were tulips, they had just started to flourish. The young man loved flowers like crazy, so he stayed with the tulips for a while…when he came to the rose at last—after two or three days…or maybe after two or three months—the rose was blue. Its petals became even more beautiful, its thorns disappeared. The poor man was killed by its new beauty; he came closer and started to kiss the rose. He stayed with her for a night or two or maybe three…now, they were the closest to each other and the rose opened to him all her secrets…some days later, the young man felt in the garden a very nice smell; it was time for the white lilly of the valley. It flourished for one week and then just faded away. The young man remembered the rose and ran to the pavilion. This time, the rose was white, with a very slight shadow of pink color and some new notes of fragrance. It seemed to be a bit sad and not as strong and vivid as usual.

“I’m sorry! So-so sorry!”

“I’m not angry,” said the rose…

Next time, it was not even a flower; it was a pumpkin, such a round, gold, wonderful pumpkin, so nice for touching and for eating…

This time Rose turned black and her thorns were very big and dangerous; the young man couldn’t even dream to come closer and wasn’t able to understand the words the rose told him.

“Why do you use so complicated language?” he asked and left the pavilion angrily.

Well, the pumpkin was still here, so round and nice! It even brought some newborn little pumpkin which looked very funny, talked in its own language, and jumped. The young man felt very happy with his pumpkin-family, but one day, he decided “to take care” of the rose again.

He entered the pavilion…but alas, it was empty; the rose was cut and stolen! At that same moment, the gardener appeared next to him.

“Miranda! Miranda!” he called. “Where is my rose!”


“Yes, her name was Miranda! Didn’t you even know her name?” The master’s eyes were filled with tears and his face reflected despair.

“Well, the root is here, there will be another rose…”

“Shut up! You are a fool!” the gardener cried. “You were so close, but understand nothing. Miranda was a miracle. You know neither about flowers nor about feelings! Once it’s cut, then it’s cut! No one could ever take her without her will! It means she wanted to go…what have you done to my rose?”

The disciple was silent. He looked at his master and didn’t recognize him. Where was that wonderful man with a shining face and gentle manners? Here was some old, weak, and broken person.

“Yes, it was her; it was Miranda who made me what I was. It was one of her wonderful properties: to bring out the best in a person. Now the one who took her away…if he places her on the good ground and takes good care of her, she would spread her roots there and flourish for him as long as he cares…yes, this rose was a wonder…oh, Miranda! My Miranda, where are you?”

“Master, where are you going?”

I’ll try to find her…or die, because I can’t live without my rose.”

With these words, the old master left the garden.

The young man left the pavilion and looked around; now the garden belonged to him but…his Master was right, real knowledge comes from inside; there was just grass. He realized that one can learn a bit of different things, or learn just one thing but perfectly, and by learning this one valuable thing perfectly, he would understand everything under the sky deeply…

Miracles do happen, but sometimes just once in a lifetime…