Sometimes I wonder what tales the flowers would tell if they could speak. Perhaps they would tell of lightning storms when the thunder shook the earth, and the rain fell in torrents on their delicate petals. Perhaps they would tell of lovers walking among them, and maybe one or more gave themselves up as symbols of affection. They would tell of their deep, wild roots that reach down into the moist, brown dirt, that resist all efforts to be pulled, and patiently regrew when plucked. They would tell tales of patience, perseverance, and joyful persistence as they endured drought, and rainstorms that threatened to extinguish their tender beings. They would whisper of dew, and shout of wind. Perhaps they would tell of nights when the sun seemed to sink into the hills and the moon rose like a gem in the sky, while stars peppered the inky expanse. They would tell of sights, wonders and tiny miracles that most people overlook, or pass off as too minuscule to notice. Perhaps they would open our eyes, and amaze our hearts if we would only take the time to listen.
p.s. how was your 4th of July? i am proud to say i didn't take any pictures. (ha.) but sometimes it's good to put the camera down and see life through your own eyes. ;) also, new design: yay, or nay?