Transported

I spend a silent and solitary day at home: writing, reading, potting flowers, staking tomatoes, and watering plants. But it is that moment when I’m standing barefoot on the grass in the backyard watering the tea garden and breathing in the gentle scent of lilacs that is, perhaps, the sweetest. I drop the hose, walk over to the bush that’s about to burst into full bloom, lift a cluster of purple blossoms to my nose, and am transported home.

Thanks so much for stopping by. I'm here most mornings with a photo and a few words about ordinary extraordinary things and, sometimes, thin places where faith intersects.

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