Lately, life is kicking me around again. My bones ache and creak with the heavy burden of the business of life.
I can imagine the roads lined with cherry trees, dogwood trees, crape myrtle trees dressed to impress with pink buds, white buds, new life, and new possibilities.
I can almost inhale the sweet smell of fragrant blossoms wafting through the air, tickling my nose.
Peonies are a ravishing flower. R-A-V-I-S-H-I-N-G! My first encounter with this luscious, sexy flower was one hot, miserable day on 42nd Street in New York City (NYC). Too much concrete and asphalt. Too much sun. Too many cars and honking horns. Too many people. Too much everything.
When the dog bites, when the bee stings, and I’m feeling sad. But it is absolutely stunning outside, I find myself the tallest, oldest, and greenest tree, I lie beneath it, I look up, and I bask in the wonder of dappled sunlight dancing playfully on my skin. And I imagine that God is sprinkling goodness down on me.
I found such distracting beauty in the twisty, gnarly branches blanketed in a patina of lichen.