Caught by Surprise

On the way to the kitchen,

two steps past the dining room window,

I pause.

I had barely glanced outside in passing,

having already witnessed the scene of early spring—

hackberries still bare-branched from winter,

the dogwood’s gray limbs holding up leaf buds

like tiny green candle flames,

the rust colored, dried blooms of a rhododendron

that flowered too early and froze back into fall colors.

It was a flash of pink that caught me by surprise.

Pink?

I step back to the window

for a second look.

A newly planted azalea peers back at me,

low and close to the mulched garden

in my neighbor’s yard.

And very pink.

I wasn’t expecting pink.

Winter was so raw,

so kill-the-plants frigid

that I’ve been intent on discovering what survived.

Bit by bit, life was revealing itself—

Lenten roses in holy white,

daffodils and forsythia in sun-kissed yellow,

violets gowned in deep, regal purple,

Nature’s parade of spring fashion.

Yes, these I knew.

These, I had seen.

But now this fancy, frilly pink azalea

waves in the wind and fairly shouts,

“Look at me!”

And, of course, I do,

marveling at the appearance of this cheeky pink plant

flaunting herself,

loud and bright,

proud in my neighbor’s garden,

and worth a second look.

So of course, I do,

and I will,

again and again

until the whole neighborhood

is alive with spring.

– kh –

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

Nature of the week:

Shadow of the Week:

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Text and photos © 2023 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.

Morning’s Gift

 

The rising sun traces

outstretched elm branches,

kisses budding tips of topmost twigs

with a warm, bright white glow

like lit candles

honoring this new day.

Wrens and cardinals chip and chirp,

overjoyed with the spreading warmth of sunrise,

with the fresh gold-green fringe of hackberry,

butter yellow buds of forsythia,

delicate white dogwood,

show-off pink azaleas

and whispers of a gentle breeze.

I step outdoors to sit in the sun,

to breathe Spring,

to be witness to silent, stretching leaves,

to birdsong and bloom.

But they need no witness.

It is I who need this,

I who need to witness

their existence,

their persistence,

their extravagance.

It is I who need this hope

of a new day.

– kh –

 

Nurture peace, cultivate kindness, and carry the calm.

 

Nature of the week—lily of the valley:

 

Shadow of the Week—A windy downpour left a puddle on a plastic tablecloth and tossed leaves onto it. When the sun came out, the floating leaves cast this shadow:

If you want me to send these thoughts to your email each Sunday, simply sign up on the right.

Text and photos © 2022 Karyn Henley. All rights reserved.