Maybe I’m not as good a friend as I think I am?

Below is a brief exchange between Chris, who was apparently annoyed at everything, and me, in the role of super-supportive friend.

(Further proof that you really don’t want to text with me.)

The cup was a gift from a friend for a purple spring weekend a couple of years ago.

The Secret Garden tea was a mixture of peppermint, fennel and chamomile – chosen as much for its matching tin design as its calming qualities.

The morning was an ambivalent one. Couldn’t decide between sunny and hopeful or dreary and overcast. Moods shifting like the swiftly-moving sky. Spring a master of the capricious.

Awakened by the kettle’s scalding water, the dried flowers and herbs come back to life – the familiar magic of tea calling from centuries past, lives and lovers crossing time and space to make themselves known, to be unforgotten. Tea is the promise that even when a flower dies, its petals dried and desiccated, its soul might continue, might find purpose and be reborn.

Tea captured in a cup, cradled in my hands, diminishes the chill of morning.

Tea stilling time, bringing clarity and clouds, swirling like the sweet nectar on the lips of a Hoya bloom.

It arrived suddenly, almost without warning, save for an ominous blanket of clouds rolling quickly overhead. One moment I was taking a picture of the first jonquil to bloom, the next the sky was releasing a deluge of wind and water, and branches and leaves and pinecones were flying through the air like some Wizard of Oz cyclone. It was violent, and while storms usually thrill instead of scare me, this one left me spooked from its hurried and instant attack. A raw brutality crackled through the sky. Lawn bags by the road were torn asunder – hours of filling them wasted in the debris strewn across the street and driveway. The rain was savage too – not steady or gentle, but choppy and haphazard – gigantic drops that fell like little cups and swirling mists that stung and rendered umbrellas useless.

Then, just as quickly as it arrived, it was gone. In its place was a double rainbow – the covenant, the promise, or the simple refraction and reflection of light through water. The explanation of science has never taken away from a rainbow’s beauty and, quite frankly for my analytical mind, has only ever added to it.

A dramatic and messy glimpse of a possible summer, as the day’s 80-degree temperature offered a peek at what might come… how fortuitous to have it end in a rainbow.

Early in the morning there is only birdsong and wind to bother the ears, which is the sort of quiet that allows garden work to become somewhat of a meditative experience. It used to take me a while to reach such a state – I was accustomed to noise and music and the general buzz of life making its monotonous roar. Once I started meditating, I learned to embrace the silence and enjoy the stillness. These days I can go outside and instantly adopt a meditative posture – deeper breathing, deliberate mindfulness, and the calm and tranquil countenance that, once engaged, builds upon itself – peace fostering peace.

Thoughts of the coming summer surface occasionally, the way the pool always conjures warmer months to mind – and I briefly acknowledge them, then let them move on. Eventually, as the stands of Miscanthus are cleared and the hydrangea are carefully pruned, the intrusive thoughts come fewer and farther between each other.

The magic of meditation, arriving after years of practice.

These hothouse orchid pics will have to suffice until the outside weather matches the fire of the inside heart. Might this be the week that we make the irrevocable turn away from winter weather? Temps are forecast to soar into the 80’s and even if they’re coupled with predicted rain, I’ll take it. The water tables need it, and the garden won’t complain. I’ve already done the majority of yard clean-up, so we’re back on schedule – not that I’m keeping a schedule anymore. On with the weekly blog recap…

The Madonna Timeline returned with an 80’s relic, ‘Pretender’.

Putting the damage on.

Chilling with my niece.

How beautiful the days.

Breast of red.

Chilling with my nephew.

Lilacs in the rain.

Such a beautiful life.

“OMG, just hide a feeling for once, please.”

Snow in the spring. Unacceptable.

Druski was the lone Dazzler of the Day.

A very sad thing.

Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie in various stages of undress.

Ephemeral thrills.

Crown and sunning.

A sky of drama.

Candy of a different kind.

Everything.

Sunday night lullaby.