Quite suddenly, quince. Beautiful salmon-y pink blossoms bursting out all over the neighborhood that say, "You wouldn't believe what's been going on here in these miraculous branches while you've been grousing over the frigid weather, the icy windshield, the drab days." Every year I tell myself that I'm going to do winter better, but I really just soldier through, dreaming of spring. Maybe winter is supposed to be like that. A season to wait, wonder, be quiet, think, go dormant in kind of a way. Then experience what the quince does - a bursting back to life. Seasons are such great teachers. (image)
When is the last time you found a personal note peeking out of your mailbox? From someone who gathered paper, pen or laptop (and thoughts) and focused solely on dear, wonderful you? Well, there will always be correspondence to open here. Love letters from life, written just for you.