Snowberries - Greenough Park, Missoula, Montana

Snowberries out in 
full force - luminescent sign:
Next corner, autumn 

-Cyndy Hull

Birch Bark - Missoula, Montana

"On pavements and the bark of trees I have found whole worlds." 

-Mark Tobey (1890-1976)

Apple Blossoms - Missoula, Montana

“Round them danced the sunbeams bright,
Green the grass-lawn stretched before them
While the apple blossoms white
Hung in rich profusion o’er them.” 
– from Apple Blossoms by Will Carleton (1845-1912)

Bee & Blossoms - Missoula, Montana

Sunday's flash hailstorm shut down May and decimated any remaining spring blossoms, so I figured I may as well extend the bloom time via a few days' worth of petal homage.

Journey's Pause - Missoula, Montana

Amidst a pause of the drifting wind, this autumn vagabond (yes, just as I found it) cast a solid shadow ‘neath the winter noonday sun.

Petite Meadow Flowers, Missoula, Montana

Earlier this week we enjoyed the layered delight of a perfect summer evening: friends you count as family, a cooling breeze to temper the heat, laughing dogs and children, tri-tip barbecue-roasted by a master, and un-birthday cake. It doesn’t get any better, and for all these blessings, I am truly thankful.
 
After the cake-and-ice-cream course, we walked up the little hill meadow. 
Waving atop thigh-high grass stems, these petite blooms glowed in the evening sunlight, each cluster no bigger than the end of my thumb. 
Ahh, the grace notes of life, waiting to impart subtle sweetness, if we but notice.

Mum's the Word, Missoula, Montana

Garden centres, grocery stores, farmers markets, front porches - mums are everywhere, beaming their smiling flower faces into the crisp fall air. I speak of the flower variety, not the parental version; but I suppose they, too, might be beaming about ubiquitously. Especially those mums who decorate seasonally - with mums, of course! (Bah-doomp Chah! That's a drum roll-&-cymbal crash to accentuate cheesy-ness, and to signal my exit stage left, for today.)

Reaching, Missoula, Montana

Miniscule feelers reaching to catch whispers of the sun, the sky, the late-spring breeze wafting clouds away to far-flung heavens.

(They also remind me of floaty anemone fingers waving in a sea current.)

Winter Tulip, Missoula, Montana

Occasionally, I pause to ponder how amazing are the conveniences and technologies that we take for granted. Today I considered it pretty astonishing that I can enjoy the hopeful bloom of fresh flowers while a winter storm rages outside. I mean, from how far away did this tulip travel to arrive - still fresh - on this blustery day? When you stop and think on it, we've grown up with and consider commonplace what would have been looked on as marvels 70,50, or even 20 years ago. So, for this harbinger of spring, I am thankful.

Open, Crocus, Hamilton, Montana

These little flowers keep making me think of the vulnerableness of our hearts.
We want to open our hearts to what will heal & comfort us, encourage & cause us to grow in good ways. But sometimes that comes about by the experience of discomfort, of being disturbed.
Think of how these tender, silken blooms started their ascent to the air - by venturing into the dark beyond the cozy cocoon of their bulb, pushing through who-knew-what-on-earth to access the fresh air, sunlight - and rain, snow, and wind, and invasion of their personal space by people with cameras.

As they slowly unfold their tender petals & vulnerable core each morning, I think flowers remind us to let Love mend our worries & cast away fear, that we would open our hearts even if we're not yet bold.
(& there's no "April Fool's!" waiting in the wings.)

Racing Stripes, Crocus, Hamilton, Montana

My darling sister said she already bought photo frames for a montage of crocus prints.
I told her she's welcome to them, but to wait a few more days to select her favourites, since there are more....