Each morning a new bloom truly more vibrant than purple or pink, and I appreciation this God-given joy. Ungodly-100-degree-July-days defy any garden, even this petunia in a blue pot struggles reaches for water, sips dew drops with desperation just to survive. I sip morning coffee and water the garden before any heat edges over the land-- wild birds sing, eat the sunflower seed, my dog barks as neighbors walk down the alley. I watch in the quiet as the sun steps over the Sandias. Marveling at this wonder a billion years old-- and count my blessings with each flower. There is not just one bloom-- but 20-30 blessings opening in ernest. Tears spring to my eyes because without theses blooms my morning is empty, my heart is broken from every yesterday's pain.
Images by Gina Marselle