This New Path

Last week I wrote about the gorgeous snowfall we had. This week we've had three or four days of spring-like temperatures. The blossoms on the cherry and pear trees are coming out. The dogwoods in the back yard are budding. Daffodils are popping up everywhere. I have a confirmed case of spring fever.

I remember a few years ago another spring-like day. This one was long-awaited, not because of the weather but because of the occasion. I wore a gorgeous long dress covered with pearls and carried beautiful flowers in purples and blues. My daughter looked like a tiny fairy princess in pink georgette, her small white basket of matching flowers trailing white ribbons. On my father's arm, I floated down the steps to a favorite selection from Edward Elgar's "Enigma." After kissing my parents and my daughter, I went to meet my groom at the front--not of a church but of a theater we both loved. I could not believe that it was actually happening, that God had brought me and this man together. The scripture that was read, the songs sung, the readings shared, were all intended to celebrate and worship God and His love for us as well as our love for each other. It was a beautiful day.

I write about my wedding every year on this or my other blog, Christians in the Arts, because it was art-filled and beauty-filled. And because my husband and I still are amazed and so grateful that we are walking this new path together.

The Fragrance of Fall

Today as we were walking the dog, a light breeze blew across my face, bringing with it the scent of fall. It's a crisp but smoky smell, even when there's no fire. It's so different from the scent of the other seasons. It says, "Change is coming!" 

The sense of smell is not one we typically think of as a conduit for beauty. But certain fragrances call to my mind memories of beauty from the past. 

For instance, a few years ago, I visited a centuries-old church while on vacation. The smell of the burning candles followed me to every corner of that building. As I looked at the historic frescoes and the architecture, the fragrance of the candles deepened the experience for me. I can smell them now.

Another fragrance that calls to mind an experience of beauty was the flowers in my wedding bouquet. Stargazer lilies, purple stock, delphiniums, blue iris, and seafoam statice with a purple ribbon made a breathtaking arrangement. As I held the gorgeous bouquet in my hand, the fragrance accompanied me throughout the most beautiful day of my life. Whenever I'm near a stargazer now, the scent takes me back to that day.   

Now, as fall continues to unfold and the leaves curl and come down, my daughter will soon remind me about one of her favorite things to do. Last year, on a warm fall afternoon, we raked a huge pile of leaves in the front yard and jumped in them. We hopped in and kicked, and threw leaves at each other. I took several photos of her but of course the camera couldn't capture the fragrance in the air. But some aspects of beauty simply can't be captured. Beauty has to be enjoyed in the moment, treasured and remembered for years to come.

The Peonies

When we moved in to this house and flowers started blooming that first spring, I discovered the small plant with shiny green leaves. It produced large white flowers with a touch of fuchsia inside. I thought I knew what the plant was but wasn’t sure. Peonies? I had read about them before but never seen a real one. They aren’t a usual part of the landscape where I live. I hastily gathered and brought the large intricate blooms inside where the sweet fragrance filled the kitchen.

But the plant is in a part of the yard that I don’t see regularly and frankly, I forgot to check on them the next year. Last year, I remembered it but we had such a drought that the bush withered before it could bloom.

A few weeks ago, we went to a dinner party at a friend’s house. In the front yard stood two bushes loaded with the biggest white flowers (with fuschia in the center) I had ever seen. One of them could fill both my hands together. Our friend confirmed what I already knew: peonies. Inside her house they graced the tables, countertops, the bathroom vanity. I was happy to see them and to know that, unless the drought struck again, we should soon have similar blooms on our plant and in our house.

But I forgot to check again! That is, until Monday. Monday was very stressful, so that afternoon my dog and I stepped out on the back deck for some fresh air. I walked to the railing and looked at the yard below. I suddenly remembered the peony. Leaning over the railing and turning my head far to the left, I saw them: four large peonies, slumped over because they were too heavy for the stems. Yes! I thought. I’ll cut them after dinner. I’ve got to get back to work. But then I felt this urging: Don’t wait. Go get them now.

And a few minutes later, they stood in a vase on our kitchen counter that a few weeks ago held flowers from a friend’s garden. Their faces and their fragrance have cheered me in the middle of a hard week. They do look a little timeworn—they must have bloomed at the end of last week. And to think, I almost missed it! It would have been my loss.