A polka-dotted landscape

We walked this morning just as the light of day was beginning to wake the robins. It was muggy and still, the ground beneath us soggy with moisture from heavy air that was like a wet blanket. As I stepped on each square of sidewalk, I was amused at how the Bradford Pear trees created an instant party for the attendees – just shake some flower confetti and voilà  – a polka-dotted landscape!

Now, I could have been so easily annoyed. Kind of like I would get when one of the girls needed some kind of art project done for class and the kitchen table would get covered in glitter that would not go away no matter how hard I tried. Or the way I would get when cat hair was forever imbedded in every inch of clothing and furniture, and no matter how hard I tried to vacuum and lintbrush it away, it was permanently affixed unless I finger tweezed every last hair.

But I wasn’t annoyed. I chose to be grateful. Grateful for a spontaneous eye party.  I had another one of my silly little daydreams about a neighborhood/citywide tree and bird party to celebrate Easter, with polka-dots and pretty tulips and daffodils lining the rooms, the noise of the party-goers chirping and singing their latest news and their excitement that spring has arrived and He is risen, He is risen indeed!

I am grateful for color. I am grateful that my eyes can see pink. That I know happy purple and bright green and vibrant red and sunburst yellow and Royals blue and fire orange.

I am grateful for an array of flowers in this city. I am grateful for residents who like to fill their flowerbeds with all kinds, bursting and dainty.

I am grateful for flowers specific for cutting and showing in a vase.

I am grateful that my Dad continues to display a fresh flower outside his bedroom door, in remembrance of Mom.

I am grateful for my husband who knows I love flowers and therefore gives them when I least expect. Like today.

For no reason other than this:

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He surprised me with these, delivered to my desk:

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The rose speaks of love silently, in a language known only to the heart. – Unknown

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