Hot everywhere and everyone is talking about it. July all fiery and flaming so much so that you are in a mental daze moving in slow-mo from shady spot to water on repeat. Unless of course you can’t, in which case you are stumbling along on these dog days of summer. We are desperate to think clearly but have to admit defeat in this heat.
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose/ By any other name would smell as sweet.” Shakespeare’s Juliet was right, neither her love nor the season of flowers depend on a name, but oh my goodness these last days of May is extraordinarily sweet. I invite you to scroll through this post and linger over each botanical image. You will be elevated. You might even be inclined to find your own blooming spring beyond your doorway.
It is quite easy to “take time to smell the roses” while you convalesce, in fact, it is perhaps the easiest thing to do. Each sweet bouquet that arrived on my doorstep brought more and more easy joy, gracing our home for more days than you might imagine, with stems of pink and yellow and red, all the colors not seen out our windows during this monochromatic season. Of course, with each flower came healing, their power born of beauty and grace, love and hope.
Nine Cent Girl 