Renewal. Springing up from beneath the leafy carpet, these little buds come alive again. Doesn't their brilliance of color leave you speechless?
Not me. :oP But I have vowed not to make complaints about the weather.
I am finding that while I embrace this stewardship even more wholeheartedly than I did all the other places I rented/lived, I do not feel I possess this place. Though surrounded by brick and pavement and reverberations of town, the history of this small plot is old and rich, and as wild as the rice for which our street was named. Older than me, at least. Wilder? Hmm... Ohh, but certainly more content.
These bulbs lived here before me. They know more of this little bit of earth than I. When I see pictures of places I lived before, I think "Why there is my old friend! I knew you well, once. Do you remember those days? Perhaps I love you better now that time has come between us." One day this yard and these rooms will kindle that emotion, too.
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