Beauty of the Finest Kind...

The other day the skies here were awesome!  There was a storm off to the southwest, and it was heading toward  us. The clouds were dark and layered. The ones closest to the ground were small pillows, with an look on the surface.  I likened it to the way marshmallows look when they are lightly toasted by a hot fire...blistered.

Yesterday I sat on the porch for awhile, in the 80 degree heat. There was enough humidity so that the air was permeated with the fragrance of the rose bushes in the garden beside the porch railing. I couldn't sit still, after a little bit.  I had to go to the blooms and put my nose into the flower to breathe in the soft, powdery scent.  From there, I left the porch, walked along the garden beds toward the back of the house, breathing deeply through my nose, so as not to miss a drop of perfumed air.  The closer I got to the back yard, the more I realized that the fragrances of the wild roses, the antique roses, the mock orange bush and the wild honeysuckle vine were all laying on the slight breeze.   What a marvelous stroll it was!

The bumble bees were seemingly drunk as they randomly wove their way from bloom to bloom. (We call them Dumble bees, because they constantly run into the gutters on the facia and the walls of the house.)  Not only were they erratic in their flight, but as noisy, too, as I've ever heard them.
The various birds that visit were chattering, chirping, cheeping and whistling, showing off their pleasure in the glorious weather.

Who could blame them?  Spring has definitely come to South Carolina, and with her arrival, she's brought along beauties of the finest kind!  I surveyed my gardens with a grateful eye, rather than noticing the weeds that were left behind in our early Fall clean up.  I saw nothing except the fruits of our labors since we moved here four and half years ago.  I did not think about the many dollars spent on bags of dirt and fertilizer or the hours of hauling it to and fro in the yard with the wagon and wheelbarrow.  I did not feel the burning pain of the work as we dug and struggled with the native, heavy, red clay.  I knew only that the gardens were rejoicing in the bright, warm sun, and so was I!