Live each season as it passes
breathe the air, drink the drink,
taste the fruit, and resign yourself
to the influences of each.
~Henry David Thoreau
Smitten (v.) – affected suddenly and strongly with a specified feeling; affected mentally or morally with a sudden pang; impressed favorably; charmed; enamored. I love the word smitten, I love being smitten, I look forward to being smitten, and on days like today I’m in desperate need of being smitten. And what might the source of my “smittenness” be today? It’s tulips and daffodils and hyacinths and crocus. After years of planting bulbs in the ground to little or no avail, I’d resigned myself to being able to admire them until now only in books, magazines, and yards where others somehow have success with them.
Nothing speaks of springtime louder or more clearly than flowering bulbs. They are the epitome of spring’s opening opus, and now that my greenhouse is abloom with many of them, it feels like spring is close enough to reach out and touch. Ah, spring, the season of increased sunlight, warmer temperatures, and the rebirth of fauna and flora, the season when the tilt of the earth relative to the sun is zero, the season which begins one month from today.
For me drinking the drink, tasting the fruit, and resigning myself to the influence of each season as it passes is a way of life that inevitably brings me face to face with Yahweh and Son, the Holy One with whom I am beyond smitten. Like Tennyson, I’m convinced that if one can understand what a flower is “root and all, and all in all, one should know what God and man is.”
O taste and see that the Lord is good; happy are those who take refuge in Him. ~Psalm 34:8 ✝
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Hope you have a smittenful day 🙂
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Thanks. Not unlike yours mine was a difficult one but for different reasons. Maybe tomorrow we’ll both be smitten with something grand. Love, N
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Love the opening on being SmiTTen, the exquisite photos, and the unfolding of your reverence like the flowers, N.
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Thank you for your kind words. I love your expression about reverence unfolding like the flowers. Blessings, Natalie 🙂
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Reblogged this on The Reluctant Poet.
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