Yesterday morning, we planted two terracotta jardinieres of pink daisies and 'invisible' gardenias on the patio, along with a tiny blue pot of carnations and an extra large one of basil.
This afternoon, I spent some quiet time out in the garden, leafing through a magazine, occasionally looking up from the beautiful photos to gaze at the bold bursts of colour and soft and dainty shapes that surrounded me.
And every spring, I'm always amazed at how the red and pink geraniums, which were planted four years ago, always arrive first, without fail, without sufficient rainfall, and seemingly, without effort. If these power flowers could talk, I don't think they would ever complain about anything; they just get on with it, resilient and forgiving!
Even when they're sandwiched between an overgrown and overbearing cluster of lilies and a tangled mass of stringy jasmine, not to mention a weak, but determined grapevine, these low key lovelies just keep calm and carry on.
And that's exactly what I did, as I leaned back into my chair, stretched out my legs and closed my eyes, the warm and comforting rays of the sun soothing my soul, while birds sang a sweet song and farmers ploughed their fields, in the near distance, beyond. A beautiful bouquet of sights, sounds and smells naturally wrapped up in wonder and awe!
Thanks for visiting,