The morning was cloudy with light, misty rain.
Normally, who would want to be outside?
Yet, the golds and reds of autumn painted against a gray sky created a kind of peaceful seclusion, isolating me from the rest of the world.
I love the feel of the rich, damp earth.
Orange, purple, and yellow tulip bulbs were carefully pressed down into the cool ground.
I leaned against the tree, thinking where I would plant an azalea. I looked around at the drooping vines, lifeless hostas, and scattered leaves on the chilled ground.
Then a thought came to me.
We feel happiness.
Why should we not feel pain?
If we feel pain, we are alive.
And being alive is wonderful.
Because on a dismal day you can plant a tulip bulb.
It will lay lifeless and dormant below the cold earth.
But it’s really alive. It’s just waiting for its moment.
3 thoughts on “alive.”
I love these pictures and the words that describe them. You are very poetic in your prose.
Your style is very unique in comparison to other people I’ve read stuff
from. Thank you for posting when you’ve got the opportunity, Guess I’ll just book mark this page.
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