Woods were ringed with a colour so soft, so subtle that it could scarcely be said to be a colour at all. It was more the idea of a colour — as if the trees were dreaming green dreams or thinking green thoughts.
~ Susanna Clarke, Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell
There is a poem by e. e. cummings called [in Just-] in which he uses the phrase “when the world is puddle-wonderful.” I thought of it today when I was out on my walk. It rained overnight and rained all day and will likely rain all night tonight. The yard around the house looks more like a series of streams and ponds than a yard. The driveway is underwater.
A tree forms itself in answer
to its place and the light.
Explain it how you will, the only
thing explainable will be
~ Wendell Berry, Given
Snow was falling
so much like stars
filling the dark trees
that one could easily imagine
its reason for being was nothing more
~ Mary Oliver
Stepping out of the busyness, stopping our endless pursuit of getting somewhere else, is perhaps the most beautiful offering we can make to our spirit.
~ Tara Brach, True Refuge: Finding Peace and Freedom in Your Own Awakened Heart
The bud itself is the miracle. To watch the upthrust of a daffodil, to see it take form as a flower-to-be, to see the bud grow and take on the warmth of color — there is the very synthesis of spring.