Flowers in her Hair, Flowers Everywhere

over 2 years ago (Edited)

You drift into thoughts that are deeply hidden within, wishful thinking you bring to souls who lost meaning in the seeking of it, as life flows through the rhythm of your words,

I embrace the beauty of life through the eyes of the season because perception is everything, I can hear the symphony of life shouting out as the days pass into the sunshine of life. And so it shall be. I hope that all is well with you and yours.

What will you do while you are patiently waiting for your turn to bloom?

I like to walk through the woods as it starts to bloom, taking in nature and life. What better way to document my day than to take a walk through life? It is so hard to not be in love with this time of year. Everywhere you look, there are flowers. In the trees, on the ground, climbing, hanging down. I have found a few new things to tuck into the garden this year. I am all about variety in my garden. I need another bleeding heart plant this year, one of them did not come back. It happens, but, not usually to me. I have to wonder if the surprise freeze had anything to do with it, or was it just its time?

Isn't nature amazing? I look around, slowly, taking it all in. It was raining blooms last night, the wind taking them down, before their time, and yet...the beauty is stunning. Once more. Flowers in her hair. Flowers everywhere.

Do you plan out your garden or let them speak to you as you wander through the garden shop? I think mine mostly apeak to me and yet, there are some I plan, their beauty captured my imagination somewhere in life. The delicate blooms or the roses my mother gave me for my new house. There will never be another rose quite the same. Pieces of my life, my garden holds so many of them. How does your garden grow?

Welcome back my friend, your absence orphans the happiness of many, myself included. Oh, Spring, I have missed you! You have truly lived in my imagination. And just like that, this post is over. Come back tomorrow and we'll do it again!

All I have are my words, armed in my mind, written in pen, stand by stand. Oh, yes. Still by hand. It has a different feel. Altered not by keys, backspace, and delete, I write, erase, tear it to pieces and start all over again. And again.

It’s my way. I walk out to the deep end of the page and dive right in.

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Lines Written in Early Spring

I heard a thousand blended notes,
While in a grove I sate reclined,
In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts
Bring sad thoughts to the mind.

To her fair works did Nature link
The human soul that through me ran;
And much it grieved my heart to think
What man has made of man.

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower,
The periwinkle trailed its wreaths;
And ’tis my faith that every flower
Enjoys the air it breathes.

The birds around me hopped and played,
Their thoughts I cannot measure:—
But the least motion which they made
It seemed a thrill of pleasure.

The budding twigs spread out their fan,
To catch the breezy air;
And I must think, do all I can,
That there was pleasure there.

If this belief from heaven be sent,
If such be Nature’s holy plan,
Have I not reason to lament
What man has made of man?

William Wordworth

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over 2 years ago

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