It's that lovely, serendipitous time of year when things awaken.
Blooms peek out from behind the dullest of trees, as if to emerge with a big, happy yawn.
The farm starts to show pockets of color, here and there. All just ready for the taking.
Our home begins to be filled with breathtaking blooms, found as easily as a snip of the scissors,
artfully placed here and there.
Beauty tucked in every nook and cranny,
a continual feast for our eyes.
We went for a farm drive right after dinner last night,
leaving the dirty dishes stacked precariously on the counter, in the sink.
The blooms were calling,
and we just had to go.
Go we did. As I was gathering up every kind of bloom I could find I swept up a large amount of daffodils in my hands also. After a careful leg lift over the barbed wire fence Brett bestowed on me one of the greatest compliments I have ever received.
He said I have a true country soul,
being so excited to go gather these beauties in the woods,
and that he doesn't know how I ever made it through life thinking I wasn't a true country girl.
It was the "true country soul" part that got me.
For in the country, on our land and around nature,
I see God, I hear God,
In fact, I see God in my photos too.
I don't mean that in a high and mighty way.
I don't mean to suggest my photos are on some heavenly level. I think everyone should see God in their photos. To me, it's a prayer language. When I look back at the moments and musings I've captured with a single "click", I see the fruits of the spirit as pure and lovely and visible as if God spelled them out on the wall.
This is my version of spelling them out on the wall.
A giant photo collage.
I printed out a "collection" (around 80 photos) of my most favorite still life photos and taped them up on this wall. I caught Anna Ruth just gazing at this wall several times and she told them it was beautiful. Sweet, meaningful words for this mama's heart.
As we step into this new season of Spring I'm so glad that no matter what circumstances or people may change or come and go,
the farm blooms are always there.
Blooming away, beautiful as can be.
A lesson lies in this thought perhaps?