Hannah used to say, "I'd know which each of them gardings belonged to, ef I see 'em in Chiny," and so she might, for the girls' tastes differed as much as their characters. Meg's had roses and heliotrope, myrtle, and a little orange tree in it. Jo's bed was never alike two seasons, for she was always trying experiments. This year it was to be a plantation of sun flowers, the seeds of which cheerful land aspiring plant were to feed Aunt Cockle-top and her family of chicks. Beth had old-fashioned fragrant flowers in her garden, sweet peas and mignonette, larkspur, pinks, pansies, and southernwood, with chickweed forthe birds and catnip for the pussies. Amy had a bower in hers, rather small and earwiggy, but very pretty to look at, with honeysuckle and morning-glories hanging their colored horns and bells in graceful wreaths all over it, tall white lilies, delicate ferns, and as many brilliant, picturesque plants as would consent to blossom there.
between the leaves
is full of sunlight.
At the sharp edge,
no longer crowded
with past and future,
fruits ripen on the lemon tree
in the silence
from the morning air.
Ok-Koo Kand Grosjean
I invite you to visit my backyard with me this morning…Immerse yourself in the beauty of these citrus blossoms, breathe deep their heavenly fragrance. I'm not a skilled photographer, by any means, and I don't have a fancy camera. But hey, I'll go out on a limb/up a rickety ladder anyday, for the sake of a good, old-fashioned show-and-tell!
Keep a green tree in your heart and perhaps a singing bird will come.
The trees are a hive of activity, all day long–I wish I could capture it all with my camera! Goldfinches and mockingbirds dart overhead, engaging one another in vocal and aerial competitions. Hummingbirds flit merrily from flower to flower, siphoning nectar from their blossoms. They stop whirring now again, wipe their sticky beaks clean against the tree bark. Ants perform a high-wire act along the narrow branches; fat honey bees buzz lazily amidst their leaves.
Anytime the perfume of orange and lemon groves wafts in the window;
the human body has to feel suffused with a languorous well-being.
– Frances Mayes
Whenever I step outside, I'm greeted with the tangy-sweet aroma of citrus blossoms. Voilà, I'm playing in a citrus grove again–one of the sweetest memories of my childhood.
I look up, and I'm made aware of the swift passing of seasons–savored experiences and missed opportunities, weighed equally in the balance of a new day.
And I'm reminded anew:
Do not be afraid to go out on a limb … That's where the fruit is.