In between dashing hither and thither pretending I was accomplishing something momentous, out of the corner of my eye I happened to see this: Forsythia is a plant that when in bloom makes one's heart glad. That bright, cheerful yellow shouts, "Spring!" Last week I had gathered these branches, and oh, am I glad I did! One can't tame the branches of this shrub so they are reaching out from the window enclosure trying to spread their happiness to every area of the house. What could be more uplifting?
Then, last night David called me out to our back yard so I could see the incredible night sky. Not only could we see the moon, Venus, and Jupiter, but we could also see a spangling of stars and constellations. It was so clear that even with our light pollution the sky was a vibrant showcase full of beauty. Again, the Byron poem that was one of my adolescent favorites (and obviously, still is) ran through my head:
She walks in beauty like the night
of cloudless climes and starry skies
And all that's best of dark and light
Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
As always, forgive me if my memory isn't completely accurate; it is memory after all. That night sky reminded me of the poets Byron, Shelley, and Keats and painters like Klimt, Rossetti, and Whistler.
The beauty in days like yesterday is intoxicating.
The one fly in the ointment about being in beautiful southern California is the thought that we probably will miss spring in NJ this year. Thanks to your lovely photo of forsythia I feel that I did not miss the entire season.
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