Daffodil Day
It happens this way with every flower I see, especially in the spring.
I am confronted by the dazzling color of the blossoms, the exotic shape and delicate arrangement of petals and a feeling comes over me, the same kind of incomprehensible awe I used to feel watching my growing children.
The flower is just...there. The fact of it is beyond me.
How exactly did this blissfully beautiful creature come to be? Out of what? Out of a papery autumn bulb tucked into the dirt months ago?
Really?
At those moments I am sure of one thing: I cannot possibly absorb the essence of growing living things.
I cannot compute the power and beauty of this spectacle that is nature.
It happens this way with every flower I see, especially in the spring.
I am confronted by the dazzling color of the blossoms, the exotic shape and delicate arrangement of petals and a feeling comes over me, the same kind of incomprehensible awe I used to feel watching my growing children.
The flower is just...there. The fact of it is beyond me.
How exactly did this blissfully beautiful creature come to be? Out of what? Out of a papery autumn bulb tucked into the dirt months ago?
Really?
At those moments I am sure of one thing: I cannot possibly absorb the essence of growing living things.
I cannot compute the power and beauty of this spectacle that is nature.
1 comment:
Claudia, this reminds me of what Eckhart Tolle says, "Seeing beauty in a flower could awaken humans, however briefly, to a beauty that is an essential part of their innermost being, their true nature." I see you in those daffoldils, dear Claudia!
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