Sauntered into the woods behind our house this afternoon looking for a quiet place. The drone of a neighbors mower filled the air and birds provided joyful punctuation to the song of summer.
The quiet I was looking for wasn't really silence, anyway. I looked with pleasure on sunlight dappling the alder trunks beneath a luxuriant green canopy--and I talked in spurts with God who made all things.
I was impressed by the advance of an army of blackberries, thorny arms reaching out across tenuous paths to attack anyone passing by. But just as impressive was a stunning contrast: The aggressive vines were adorned with crepe-paper flowers of softest pink. In the center of each a myriad of stamens—like silken threads—rose with the grace of a crown fit for a fairy princess.
They're all over the woods, these floral diadems. It's as though the King of Glory had such an abundance of it that He spilled it out and it pooled in lowly, ordinary places. It even snagged and collected on a thousand rampant blackberry vines in the forest behind the barn.
© Copyright July 2017 by Robert G. Robbins