Riot in the Glasshouse

#springwander Inside the curved spine of the glasshouse, color refuses to wait. Reds burn beside violet shadows, while yellow orchids hang like lanterns from above. Outside, Dublin is gentle. In here, spring bursts without apology. Leaves are striped, speckled, shining. Even the stems wear confidence. The air smells thick with wet soil and invention. You walk through, dazzled—and a little braver.