A garden in black and white

Imagine a world with no colour. Recently I read an article about some siblings who all suffered from a rare congenital disorder (I forget its name) which meant they could only see in black and white. One of the sisters was interviewed and she spoke of her garden. At the front of her house she has a large Rhododendron. She can’t discern the flowers from the leaves so it is only when the flower petals drop to the ground that she knows it is in flower. I look around my garden and delight at the colours which nature has produced and wonder if I would have that same pleasure if the colours weren’t there.

Is it the scent of the Sweet Peas, the form of the gnarly old plum tree, the activity of the insects and butterflies, the reward of a days weeding, the seven different shades of a fading rose, or all of these things put together which fuels my passion? Would taking one of these elements out of the equation lessen that desire?