In my area the peonies are blooming, as are the miniature wisteria
and all the other colorful flowers that welcome in the summer.
Whenever I see the glory of late spring and the blooming
flowers I think of an experience I saw a few years ago.
I watched a well-dressed man stop abruptly, as if held by some
invisible force. He was in a hurry, given his stride and determined pace, yet
when he passed a public garden of blossoming roses the man suddenly stopped,
put down his briefcase, and turned to face the beauty that bloomed there.
There were probably sixty rose bushes each with eight to ten
blossoms festooning the prickly stems. It was a magnificent site. The plethora
of color, in the softness of the morning light, stopped this busy man in his
hurried quest.
He stood there surveying the garden patch, spending a moment at
each bush. His gaze stopped at a particularly full bush of bright golden yellow
rose blossoms. He reached down, not to pick, but gently touched or better yet
caressed this gift of nature. He kept his hand there for a long moment as he
once again glanced at the entire patch of panorama color.
I thought how
fortunate I was to be reminded, in such a tender private way, that no matter
the urgency of an appointment, or how focused we are in our thoughts, when
nature chooses to embrace us with her beauty and we choose to see it, that
moment transforms our thoughts into a passion and we respond with awe.
Thank you Sir
for the reminder to take time and smell the roses.
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