Midday sky of rain and gray deepened colors of the spring. Green of the lawn richened. Fuschia-bright of redbud’s bloom paling in past its peak shaded darker in red-violet. New leaves in break brightened in the contrast, as much yellow as green in color’s blend. Even the white of pure-petal blossoms toned in lavender-cast.
Through window view, she looked on world—sight of the living spring—and thought how, even in gray, through rain and storm, a beauty can be seen: new lens, new light, world and sights ever anew with change of being and perspectives.
She liked the way, she liked the thought, of world never quite or cast the same: ever-new to seeing eyes discerning subtleties and difference.
She warmed in the cool and damp of outdoor’s feel in touch from opened window’s reach. Surface cooled. Inner warmed. She hued and changed like world in view—in soft and subtle ways—and like opened leaves and blossoms smiled of the spirit believing, knowing, that she was: seen, learned, and loved.
Ever-new, sensing more, she thought of her garden—when rain would pass and earth would dry, ready for the seed and new-gift life. Her smile broadened, preparing as the garden-earth.