Spring is in the air

My little world has been painted in fuchsias and pinks, and the ground smells like cherry blossoms.

Mourning doves are serenading the open spaces above my head at all hours of day, and under my feet soft, green grasses.  The trees, the tulips—those first splendid gems of early spring, the sun, the moon, and stars these are the themes of my meditations and morning and evening walks in the garden.  

The lilac tree is bursting in blooms; full, and heavy, with glorious jewels of dark purple and amethysts. 

The garden is very still. It is dazed with moonlight, contented with lilac perfume... Can you see the moon above the blossoms?

How can I describe it?  The scent... the glorious, marvelous scent of the lilacs being carried by winds. It marvels me, this scent... it dulls every other senses and you feel as if the earth is letting itself be inhaled in this simple, lovely perfume of which I can only say it contains so much depth within itself, light and darkness, and something greater than life itself.  

Oh the lilac scent; the ripe earth... 

A black cat among roses, 

garden phlox, lilac-misted under a fainted moon

Things I love... 

I want to fill my house with lilac perfume... oh, I want more… more; masses of them!

I have been working hard too.  All of the outside furniture had been painted. New cushions have been provided, every flowerpot, all the little things, the weather tattered fountains and decorations stained and painted...

...and now I sit and wait for the mocking-bird, the whip-poor-will, the yellow-throat and the humming bird.