September Afternoons

There is something so wonderful about sunny September afternoons isn't there?  Something about the quality of the light and the color gold.  Something about the way the wind stirs the fallen leaves on the ground that makes it easier to be soft, to rest~ to open to stillness.  

Gardens have a way of reminding us how to "be"  don't they? They have a way of whispering some kind of unspoken truth that has to do with effortless unfoldment, a kind of divine and inevitable unfurlment. 

I held the enormous blossom of a yellow and orange dahlia in my palm today, and when my eye's rested on the exquisite petaled mandala in my dirty gardener's  hands, there was nothing left on this earth to want. 

I cannot imagine a  world without flowers and dirt, and the color gold, can you?