Inside we sit, frozen in time while on the other side of door and window azalea pink and dogwood white bud, blossom into pastel-soft colors, fade, then fall effortlessly to the ground.
Nature reaffirms itself all around us, while we reluctantly adjust to a new, slower way of life.
At dawn, the birds begin their morning song. Heron takes flight across the lake while geese applaud the flight with their wings. At noon the weeping cherry weeps pink stars onto the ground; mid-afternoon finds trees bowing to the earth, leaves sodden by brief spring showers which heighten a pervasive scent of lavender; by midnight heaven’s stars cast their timeless light down to earth. Crickets still serenade at dusk, and sunsets still glow golden and magenta sharing their own brand of magic.
The weight of rain on tree branches lifts the weight which burdens our hearts. The light from stars breaks through our darkness, leaves us open to accepting nature’s messages of hope.
“Slow down,” the morning sunbeams whisper in their glide through bedroom window and across front porch, encouraging cats to stretch and deer to leave the open yards to take shelter in thick brush and hidden ravines.
“Breathe deeply,” the wind wafts gently by our ears, bringing with it scent of lavender and honeysuckle, warmth of renewing sun and hope of springs and summers to come.
And so, we slow down, taking in miracles we have not experienced since childhood: morning’s light casting rainbows upon dew-laden grass, fiddle-head ferns raising fronds to the sky, a string of ducklings waddling between hen and drake while hawk circles patiently overhead.
We breathe deeply, breathing in not only the ozone left by the showers and the purple fragrance of lavender, but also fragments of hope, renewal, eternal rebirth and, bound to the earth in our solitude, we draw strength from nature.
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