Yesterday there was a little sliver of dawn at the horizon. But I am always cautious when that edge begins to appear. Aware the inky turbulence of heavy rain still looms ahead – a long way to go before you see any more of the road than the amber pinspot of headlights.
Why it feels so good to me to fuss with these flowers, I honestly don’t know. I worried this week that the lingering bruises of disappointment and my bone-dry fuel tank might have left me stranded somewhere even petals couldn’t find me.
Miraculously, though, the magic held. It still rained like hell for a while – but somehow I stayed on the road. I can’t say it any clearer than these pictures – what I can’t stop hoping for, even though I feel hopeless. It comes back again and again: the urge to open and yield to the unforeseeable, no matter what has gone before. That was my miracle today.
Oh my god, honey, the colors on this one! Stunning. That’s not one of Mom’s pitchers, is it?