Some gardens are planted with seeds.
Others—with words.
This little volume, In Friendship’s Garden, is both: a collection of sentiment and bloom, wrapped now in hand embroidery. Delicate stitches trail across the cover like vines, blossoms curling as if grown straight from the page itself.
It feels less like a book and more like a keepsake—something you give, something you keep, something that lingers long after the words are read.
Friendship, after all, is a garden that only grows richer with tending.
This is its perfect symbol.
