June 12, 2019

A Practice for Clearing out our Inner Darkness.


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Spring affords the most charming seduction with the splendor of newness.

We are granted a time to reconnect with ourselves and with nature.

That gentle spring breeze that softly caresses your face reminding you the beauty of being alive. The blue skies that reappear after a long and dark winter. Hands in the gritty soil, finding that soul-reviving connection to Mother Nature. Bare feet in the cool, green grasses.

How I have longed for this.

As I begin to feel that earthly connection, I cannot wait for the first annual trip the local Mennonite nursery. It sits on five acres, but has greenhouse after greenhouse of Nature’s most splendid creations.

What is it to behold the most alluring sight of colors?

Roses in all their variations of beauty. Heart-throbbing reds, soft peaches tinged with hints of pink, or subtle yellows with speckles of sunshine. Mystic illusion dahlias in their stunning contrast from stem to petal. They radiate a summer warmth, but are softened by their spring-like companion, the uncomplicated tulip. Then we have the climbers with the mesmerizing purples of clematis or their voracious cousins, wisteria.

So many treasures in bloom.

As I walk into the first greenhouse, my feet cannot carry me fast enough. I find myself happily skipping like a child to touch my first blazing red geranium of the season. The smell of the peach roses are softly fragrant, and the spring breeze carries it effortlessly through the greenhouse.

As I walk row by row, I cannot contain my excitement. I must touch them all—from the dancing petunias to the dangling portulacas to the peerless marigolds.

I make my way over to retrieve a flat cart to begin assembling my floral choices. What keepsakes must I bring home for this spring season?

As I take a deep breath, I am overwhelmed by the simplicity and grandeur of this moment. The newness of beginnings. The flowers are symbolic of starting anew in this season, and it reminds to remain present in this moment.

I adore partaking in this process each year. It is the breaking of a new season for me. It allows me to shed the heaviness of the clout of winter. As I hand-select each flower, I carefully analyze where it will retain its position in my garden.

Mystic illusions, fiery red geraniums, and portulacas with unrevealed colors will all accompany me home.

Walking out of the nursery, pulling my cart, I softly smile as my eyes dance upon my purchases.

I am so content in this moment.

How beautiful is this life?


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