Good morning, digital neighbors! Happy Wednesday to all you Friends & Refugees, Early Birds & Later Dayers, Conversants & Lurkers at the Report. Hello again to the Misfits, the Politically Homeless, and the PHAM basking in the sun of the Phetasy, the Free Thinkers and Critical Seekers at Outspoken, and finally all of you ADD Irregulars, WSN Curators, and Curmudgeons who make Padre’s the best little hole in the wall. Off to the Wednesday morning meditation — have a great day, dear neighbor!

SEASON OF SURPRISES

Since early memory, I’ve eagerly awaited the arrival of spring, like a child waits for Christmas morning. Sweet lilacs, Easter lilies all dressed up in white satin, and rosebuds poking their noses out to test the air — all delight my senses and my heart.

Flowers graced the makeshift altars of my childhood. I preferred flowers more my size — buttercups, violets, dandelions. They grew closer to the ground I lay on, played on, and dreamed upon — where I always searched for surprises: a new variety, a different color, or a four-leaf clover.

I treasure them still, those tiny blooms, those perky little heads that pop up everywhere across meadows and hillsides. But now I leave them to be discovered and gathered by younger dreamers.

The flower gardens planted by my grandmother and the vegetable gardens sown each year by my family were spectacular, plentiful, and delicious because our hands had watered and cared for them. But it’s the abundance of flowers in deserts, on mountains, and in the meadows of the world — tended by unseen hands — that continues to renew my faith in a generous and loving Creator. And I’ve learned that spring is eternal if we continue to seek the surprises. — Mary Lenore Quigley

Sun and Flower - Sagar Kulkarni - Unsplash