Points of Passion (PoP)

I’ve been feeling a little blue lately about the state of things. Maybe you can relate? 
I’m a devourer of politics and news, have been since a very young age—but—after the last couple of weeks, I’ve reached my limit. I am craving a break.
So…for the next little while I am going to spend the time I would normally be gobbling up the day’s catastrophes—here—creating a vision blog of inspiration. I’m hoping that less time wading in the muck and more time reveling in personal Points of Passion (PoPs) will lead to good things. 
Here goes…hope you’ll join me!


My earliest flower memories are of the peony bushes that lined my childhood driveway. Outside, they’d spring from the ground, a colorful magic trick, not long after piles of heavy snow would dissipate. Inside, their pink pillowy puffs would spill out of antique pitchers—summer’s warning cry that it was indeed on its way.

I had a childhood of flowers, come to think of it, the impromptu wildflower kind. I can still picture a patch of farmland in the hour long drive between my grandparents' house and mine. A secret resting place covered in Black-eyed Susans and Queen Ann’s Lace. We’d get out of the car, venture in waste deep, and pick a custom bouquet. Nature’s floral delivery.

I now understand that there is no such thing as free flowers. Someone owns the land. Someone scatters the seeds. And those flowers that line the driveway come with a lot of weeds. 
Which makes me appreciate the flowers more. 

Cut from the earth, plopped in a vase, a masterpiece of not-so-accidental grace that always inspires me.

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