Butterfly Weed Bloom
(6/4/12) Mondays always feel like new beginnings. I’m rested, I’m ready for a challenge and I’m motivated. As the week wears on, my enthusiasm wanes as I play catch up in finishing all the projects and connections that began on Monday. Saturday is double full. But Sunday washes away all that angst with its peaceful, worshipful moments. Yesterday it was too hot to go for our usual Sunday afternoon hike, giving me hours of uninterrupted reading time. “I will make all things new!” is God’s promise in Christ. This morning after reading a piece in the NYT by Diane Ackerman, “Are We Living in Sensory Overload or Sensory Poverty?” I sat on my deck with my first cup of tea—looking, listening and feeling the air around me. I’ll admit, I have been living in poverty. Usually that first warm drink accompanies while I’m reading the paper. High interest, diverse subjects and tantalizing political opinion. It leaves me well informed but poor.
Today the bird feeder is empty. So even without the sight of birds to distract my attention, I hear happy birdcalls from far and near. The air is fresh. All things are new. In the distance, circles spread on the lake surface where hungry fish rise to capture insects.
Soon the dog and I are walking along the driveway, our daily survey of the changes from the day before. His sense of smell dominates; my sight takes first place. And there they are: the first tiny purple blooms on the round ball of milkweed buds. Could her sister-flower, the butterfly weed be bursting too? I almost ran to see the most likely plant, the one I’d been watching far down the drive. And yes, there is the blush of orange ready to delight. Now I am rich! If I keep looking and listening and smelling, the wealth will keep pouring in.
Today the bird feeder is empty. So even without the sight of birds to distract my attention, I hear happy birdcalls from far and near. The air is fresh. All things are new. In the distance, circles spread on the lake surface where hungry fish rise to capture insects.
Soon the dog and I are walking along the driveway, our daily survey of the changes from the day before. His sense of smell dominates; my sight takes first place. And there they are: the first tiny purple blooms on the round ball of milkweed buds. Could her sister-flower, the butterfly weed be bursting too? I almost ran to see the most likely plant, the one I’d been watching far down the drive. And yes, there is the blush of orange ready to delight. Now I am rich! If I keep looking and listening and smelling, the wealth will keep pouring in.
Milkweed blooms
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