Float to the ground one at a time.
There is no way of telling what the final count of petals will be.
This really is the garden where it all began, where a life could be counted in petals. A big part of my childhood remains here in a magical garden as the petals have floated off on the wind.
I come back when nineteen thousand camellia petals have already fallen one at a time. I yearn to gather them up off the ground and turn back the clock. Where did all the petals go? How did a magical garden turn to this?
But I can't. The petals have fallen.
One by one the petals fall for each of us. The time will come to leave the garden.
I must savor the beauty of each petal before it falls.
And be thankful that one garden filled with ancient trees and many camellias has served so many lives so well, with too many petals to count.