I hate being right. You're laughing, right? Riiiiiight. (That's how Walter says it)Really -- just ask Randy.
He'll tell you --
tell you that in all actuality it's being wrong that I have a problem with.
Who doesn't? We all like being right, right? RIIIIIIGHT.
I told my plants to just wait, it wasn't spring yet.
But did they listen to me? No. No one ever listens to me. I'm just the Mom.
They let the winter sun warm their little faces,
and the gentle breezes caress their tiny buds--
and believing spring had come, they burst forth.
But no, it is not spring yet.
(even as much as I want it to be spring, too)
In this instance, I wish I was wrong. I wish that spring was here, the frost was gone, the flowers free to bloom without fear.
I should be wrong more often. I should remember that not everything (hardly anything) is simply black and white. There are a million shades of gray. And pushing and pushing until my tiny little hemisphere is black and white,
doesn't make it black and white EVERYWHERE.
Because, living in color is a much warmer, happier, protected place.Now, now little plants. I will protect you.
I will cover your tender shoots during the cold, frosty nights
until the spring is here to stay.
Now what do you say? That's right. Your welcome.
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2 comments:
Beautiful pictures!
Wendy--All of your pictures are great, but I must say, these are really awesome. You certainly are becoming an artistic women. Don't know how you have the time or energy to do it all--Particularly in such a linguistically pleasing way. You're amazing! Sylvia
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