Was it Even Real?

Smiling as she digs another hole for the next flower. The rows of perfection and colors matching in her mind, although sadly it's actually color blind.
Humming as a bird and smiling as a baby's first taste of candy, a pretty butterfly lands on her wrist.
Gently she holds it up and tells it "go on, this is our little nest."
It doesn't move, and anger evolves. As a strong wind, she PUFFS, as it zooms elsewhere.
Then the smile comes to her face. Nothing can steal our colorful garden!
What harm could the beauty bring to a colorless garden?