Simply Beautiful


Without walking anywhere, there are now sights all around the house like these tulips.  Now I have the time to actually anticipate them as they grow, worry about if buds will form, watch the promise of opening and finally enjoy their full bloom, always wondering how long it can last.  Being able to experience such performances for the days and weeks necessary is a marvelous luxury, only afforded to the very young and quite old.

Inevitably, at any such annual event, the unbidden thought comes asking “will this be the last I will see.”  It is morbid, of course, and could have been asked any of the many years prior.  But so many peers and those slightly older now become commonly impaired on a routine basis that worry is natural.  On the other hand, it does heighten the sense of adventure and enjoyment and determination to make each day and hour as memorable as possible, all the time.  Take nothing for granted.

The far shore is rapidly becoming a wall of green.  Any close look yields convincing evidence either that a plant is well on its way to summer or has succumbed to winter.  The sun continues to scream that it is getting lovely and warm, but the breeze often begs to differ.

By now, primal rhythms in our own blood have cast deciding votes.  Young folks are as helpless as ducks caught in hormonal mating tides.   Only bloodless elders like me find ourselves observing the dance more or less dispassionately.  But even that is fun, now, as I am convinced at least for a little while that in spite of all its immense problems, the world continues on its course.

Even the algae changes now, brilliant green in the bright sun.  The crystal clear water comes to an end soon, as all the various organic components awake and turn it murky, a surprising sign of vitality.  For the moment, it is easy to see the bottom from the dock.

Invisible in the picture, but definitely present, are shoots of green reeds, pushing upward inches a day, racing to be ready to take full advantage of the summer.  Even though all we see now are the interesting brown remnants of previous summer, the stage had been set for their replacement already.  As it is, really, for each of us as well.


Maybe out of focus, but the colors on this foggy morning are true.  Sometimes everything looks more brilliant and harmonious in mists.  Spring has such a range of wonderful hues, from the bright yellows to pastel reds to fresh greens.  A feast for the eyes.

On the other hand, maybe I am just too lazy to walk much beyond my driveway.  If I had a porch and a rocking chair, I would probably be sitting on it too much.


Recently purchased flowers line the patio wall under an overhang protecting them from predicted thunderstorms.  Joan has everything ready to go into what I refer to as our Ita
lian garden.  I’m privileged, because except for mowing the lawn and trimming the bushes, I can just sit back and enjoy the labor of the genuine gardener.

This time of year I often feel guilty even sitting inside and writing about it, although I have a window directly before me.  It is if there is a wonderful gift of experience out there and I am ignoring it.  That in spite of the fact that I have been outside thousands or tens of thousands of times before.  Nevertheless, for me it never gets old.

As the temperature suddenly hits the eighties, the world turns green.  Dune grass is up, the far hills are finally veiled, and local views are obscured by big leaves.  Lines of people are starting to show up on the beach, from which dogs will soon be banished until the fall. 

So we made it through an April that seemed like it would never end.  The summer seems to stretch away forever before us.  Those perceptions, too, will prove illusory as time goes on and each month fades back into those previous.  But for the moment, all the universe is timeless and wonderful and we almost wish it would pause here forever.



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