1412. Life, when it was good, was indeed pink. La vie en rose. ~Lydia Michaels

…the right kind of day is a jeweled balm
for the battered spirit.
A few of those days and you can become drunk
with the belief that all’s right with the world.
~Ada Louise Huxtable

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Pink is not just a color; it embodies a variety of attitudes, all of which are uplifting. There’s the cool and collected pinks, the bold and sassy hotter pinks, the soft and drowsy pinks, and the daring and dramatic deep pinks. In the spring I think of pink as a somewhat shy presence but as summer’s fiery temperatures rise, pink is anything but timid. In Texas the scorching days of July and August punish the flesh and the spirit relentlessly, but even the smallest touch of pink pours over us a soothing salve of goodness. The pinks of summer may not entirely keep me from walking “without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer,” but they do keep the flames from licking up so high that they completely snuff out my breath. While locusts screech, pink flowers murmur softer melodies taking some of the edge off the insects’ discordant harmonies and my discomfort. I’ve even seen ribbons of pink in spectacular sunsets at the end of “right kind of days” in all seasons and they, too, cool down the heat in the fiery glow of the summer sun. Studies show that colors effect the human psyche; that could be why when a person is well, he/she is said to be in the pink. Since Creation is full of colors, the Lord, Himself, must place a premium on them and their effect. So whenever I hear someone say, “How majestic is His name,” I perceive God’s majesty in a broad spectrum of the amazing colors I’ve seen on earth and in the heavens.

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People usually associate the colour pink with weakness and naiveté; but I associate this colour with the most beautiful parts of the day— dawn and dusk! And in my searching through mystical writings, I have found that pink is actually related to the utmost levels of the Tree of Life. I’ve also seen it in pictures of the sky surrounding the most magnificent Aurora Borealis! So pink is strong and wonderful. ~C. JoyBell C.

O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth! You have set your glory above the heavens. ~Psalm 8:1 ✝

**Photograps taken by Natalie in her yard today

1410. Color is a power which directly influences the soul. ~Wassily Kandinsky

Of all God’s gifts to the sighted man,
color is the holiest,
the most divine, the most solemn.
-John Ruskin

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To the sighted man color is undeniably holy, but the sanctity of it goes deeper than the eye. Deep within the human soul I believe color is recognized as tidings from the Father of our world. There is also a holy melody meant for the ears. Pablo Picasso once asked, “Why do two colors, one put next to the other, sing?” He couldn’t explain it nor can I, but there are color combinations that compose the sweetest of tunes. Pink and blue is one of those duos, and together they sing a divine harmony reminiscent of sapphire skies filled with pink ribbons of light. And Richter, a soviet pianist, said, “Music is the poetry of the air,” and I couldn’t agree more because these colorful rhyming couplets fill the breath of my garden with prayer-like chants as well as with the holiness of their hues.

Let them praise the name of the Lord, for his name alone is exalted; his splendor is above the earth and the heavens. ~Psalm 148:13  ✝

**Photos taken by Natalie; collage by Natalie

1361. The spring is coming by many a sign… ~Excerpted line from a poem by John Clare

I have said that there was
great pleasure in watching
the ways in which different plants
come through the ground,
and February and March are
the months in which that
can best be seen.
~Henry N. Ellacombe

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March! March! March!
They are coming In troops to the tune of the wind.
Redheaded woodpeckers drumming,
Gold – crested thrushes behind;
Sparrows in brown jackets, hopping
Past every gateway and door;
Finches, with crimson caps, stopping
Just where they stopped before.

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March! March! March! They are slipping
Into their places at last. . .
Literature white lily buds, dripping
Under the showers that fall fast;
Buttercups, violets, roses;
Tulip and bluebell and pink;
Daffodils and saucer magnolias
Throng upon throng of sweet posies
Bending the dewdrops to drink.

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March! March! March! They will hurry
Forth at the wild bugle sound,
Blossoms and birds in a flurry,
Fluttering all over the ground.
Shake out your flags, birch and willow!
Shake out your red tassels, larch!
Grass blades, up from your earth – pillow.
Hear who is calling you. . . March.
~Edited and adapted poem
by Lucy Larcom

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Flowers appear on the earth; the season of singing has come, the cooing of doves is heard in our land. ~Song of Songs 2:12 ✝

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**All photos taken by Natalie except the one of the House Finch.

1214. Heart-stopping envy is the sincerest form of flattery. ~Anna Godbersen

Life is indeed colorful. We can feel in the pink one day,
with our bank balances comfortably in the black, and
the grass seemingly no greener on the other side of the fence.
And then out of the blue, something invites envy.
~Edited and adapted excerpt
by Alex Morritt

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In the spring when we were actually getting rain, we also had several bouts of hail along with the showers. As a result this summer there have been little armies of roofers tap, tap, tapping their way all around town. Our roof too was recently replaced, and then two weeks later my new neighbor got her new roof put on. Shortly thereafter, Natalie, yes interestingly we share the same name, was out in her front yard when we pulled onto our driveway. When she saw us, she came running over to tell us about something funny that had happened while the workers were up on her roof. It seems that one of them was so taken with my yard and flowers that he was leaning over on his ladder to get a better view. But because his view was blocked by a large tree, he had to lean way over on his ladder to get a good look at it. And then boom, he finally had leaned a tad too far over and tumbling down came he and his ladder. Fortunately, other than his pride, the guy wasn’t hurt so we felt no remorse about having a really good laugh about the incident. Then Natalie went on to tell us another funny story about her mom who is so envious of my yard that she’s been trying to get glimpses of it through the slats in her privacy fence. And it also seems that she’s seen enough to jokingly ask Natalie if she thought I’d notice if she sneaked over and dug up a few things. Of course I was very flattered and pleased that others enjoy my little piece of Eden as much as I do, but I don’t want them falling off ladders or having to peek through fences to see it. So I told Natalie, as I tell everyone, that people are always welcome to open the gate and come on in to look around, and that I’d be happy to share with her and her mom all the seeds that they might want. I also told her that I have chairs spread out around the yard for those who want to linger a while longer. Lastly and with tongue in cheek, I said that she and her mom were more than welcome to come in and dig up all the weeds they wanted.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast; it is not. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. ~1 Corinthians 13:4-5 ✝

**The collage is of some of what’s on my garden’s altars today.

1154. The blousy, splendiferous hydrangeas are abloom and flourishing with life. ~Natalie Scarberry

Like the oak leaf hydrangea bud in May,
like squirrels that invade backyard  bird feeders
and like train whistles that echo in the hollow
rolling through white pines and serviceberry branches,
her trust, in the shape of soft smiles and morning kisses,
permeates his every breath.
~Edited lines in a poem written
by William A. Poppen

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Harmony followed Spring’s appearance
In the eternal bond of its adherence
Also came the birds and their choirs
And they too were dressed in spring’s attire
Bees covered the flowers, jasmine, the air
When fair was time and time was fair
Blissful daffodils, they bloomed in threes
Over by the hydrangea trees
In the tire swing, my feet brushed through clovers
For the Seraph’s peaceful weather had taken over
I danced in it; I loved the sweet jubilee
That made bloom the little hydrangea trees
The dandelions floated on the bottom of the sky
On days when ground squirrels forgot to be shy
And even butterflies came to enjoy the breeze
Fluttering beside the hydrangea trees
Their pink, blue, and purple blooms
Never appeared a minute to soon
They made life simple; they made life sweet
And so it is I’ve always admired the hydrangea trees
~Excerpted and edited lines from
a poem by Whitney Albright

Live in harmony with one another. Do not be proud, but be willing to associate with people of low position. Do not be conceited. ~Romans 12:16  ✝

**One image via Pinterest; others via Pixabay; collage created by Natalie

1136. Each color lives by its mysterious life. ~Wassily Kandinsky

Mere color, unspoiled by meaning,
and unallied with definite form,
can speak to the soul
in a thousand different ways.
~Oscar Wilde

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Color… thinks by itself, independently
of the object it clothes.
~Charles Baudelaire

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Color, rather than shape,
is more closely related to emotion.
~David Katz

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Colour is, on the evidence of language alone,
very bound up with the feelings.
~Marion Milner

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Color is the language of the poets.
It is astonishingly lovely.
To speak it is a privilege.
~Keith Crown

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From the blue, purple and scarlet yarn they made woven garments for ministering in the sanctuary. ~Excerpt from Exodus 39:1  ✝

**All photos taken by me in my yard

1131. The rose is without an explanation; she blooms because she blooms. ~Angelus Silesius

Roses of the field whisper divine poetry,
but you must listen carefully to hear it
because noise from the wheels of progress
drowns out everything that sings.
~Edited poem by Judith Cody

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You love the roses – so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses!
Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and red
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light
As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be
Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!
~Edited poem by George Elliot

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He(the Lord) will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. ~Psalm 91:4  ✝

**Image of my Night Owl roses