A trip to the bank. . . .

Difficult to talk about today, the trip to town: the drive. Last trip was nearly a month ago, and the changes, phenomenal! The sycamores, the last to leaf always, wearing veils as tender as a girl's. Always always there are many more greens than we think -- I discovered that when I first lived here, the summer I bought the land, before I built. And my only table was in the middle of the grove, about where I'm sitting now. Not only so much green, but so many subtle shades and tints and hues. Today was that experience squared. Pale pale greens, pink-greens, blue-greens, butter greens. Gloss greens, suede greens, sandy greens, sharp greens, blatant greens, subtle greens, hard greens, soft greens, singing greens, screaming greens, and on-and-on greens. . . . The soft folds of mountains in velvet greens, the rocks in calico greens, the river in sparkling silver green, different even in sun and shade. The mosses, stark and sweet, bitter and sharp. Even salty green.

And the flowers!! So much in bloom just now. Things I've never seen bloom together (and I'll leave out people's yards: same everywhere, lol!) Wintercress and field mustard, shadbush, dogwood, and redbud, dandelions and buttercups, several new yellows I've never seen before, and several new whites. First phlox, two weeks early, violets, forgetmenots. The coltsfoot fully gone to seed head in places resembled snow more than fluff. The elder is in bloom and the honeysuckle, the apples, pears and cherries altogether. The road crew cut down my flowering plums, or they'd have been there, too.

Sky beautiful steady blue, and few clouds curled comfortably here and there. Truth is, it was so amazing, so gorgeous, so breathtaking, I did truly begin to weep. (I do that.) Somehow, a blessed assurance that despite the insanity of our leaders, that all *is* right with the world. That somehow, the Universe has not abandoned us, is in control. Truth is, I needed that. Badly.

And to you, if you're reading this, when you read this, know: I love you every whit as much as all of this. And that is troo, too.

.