A beautiful ruin.

We burned the garden and the flowerbeds recently.  I thought it looked beautiful.  Before you find me overly morbid, allow me to explain.  As day after day looks bleak and grey outside it's often been difficult for me to picture a yard and garden teeming with color.  But once we set fire to the weeds and burn away the gnarled, dried stalks and plants that winter has left in its wake, I can begin to see it.  My eyes eagerly take in the black patches because they feel like a clean slate.  Where I once glanced just seconds before and saw ruin, I now see flowers taking root, space for the garden to grow again.

This ruin is beautiful to me.  It leaves faint memories of what was and unlimited possibility of what's to come.  I am trying to allow and learn from the same ruin in my own life.  The garden and flowers have so much to say if we'll only listen.