A calla lily is blooming in my little garden. You would think that Middle East peace had been achieved—I am so happy about this white with pink flower. Also, my freesias have kept blooming their hearts out in fragrant reds, yellows, whites, and a purple or two. My bee balm has begun blooming in that rich purple-red hue, and my butterfly bush is about to burst into color (violet), as are my cone flowers (given to me by my mom last year).
We keep on having rich, old-fashioned red, very perfumed roses, and I bring them in and stick them in vases of all types. They make our kitchen aromatic. The large clematis flowers on the mail box are purple and red (I planted them two years ago). And I am waiting on the bright pink crepe myrtles to bloom later this summer. Their ever-increasing leaves are a deep, vibrant green. It’s a magical time of the year. Everything is blooming or being waited on to bloom.
I do so wish my soul were more exactly like that.