the appearing
nothing more
magical:
appearing,
cutting through
all the noise,
a seeding
whimsically
reminding
You Are Here.
“I took a deep breath and listened to the old brag of my heart. I am, I am, I am.” – Sylvia Plath
I don’t like to show the images I draw from – I really am dreadful at depicting reality – but the frilly little seedlings near the foot of this Italian fever dream of a fountain shepherdess or whatever (the thing has a giant crack in the base, so it’s doubly ridiculous) – are everything good.
Every single year, I find something to observe which gets me shaking my head all over again. Observing the seedlings this morning in two hour increments has been WILD. I am literally watching them grow, millimeters higher every time I look. I may get nothing else done today but looking. How little I care.