Lemon, clean, slight vanilla, green: an ivory snifter as large as your face. Magnolia Blossom.
The Camellias are raging, along with the Hydrangeas. Where have I been? Indoors, really?
Time suddenly is soft enough to spread around the moment, moldable, malleable; I am a sculptor up to my elbows with the muddy clay of flow – I ooze it out between my fingers into any shape I want.
I drop Chloe off at dance and head out for a walk in Hampton Park. A storm is building in the west; the light goes from bright day to eerie green; rumbling rolls in. I walk fast along the trail, listening to the pounding feet and breathiness of the runners when they overtake me. The rain begins so gently.
The Citadel cadets shout together over the edge of the trees in the unison of solemn joy. There is a timelessness of young men shouting in military song – I imagine them marching into battle. At dusk the trumpet plays Taps – but it is early still.
The spaciousness of grace tingles within and without – through porous skin.
Magnolias are messy in their leaf dropping ways and butchered by neatnik lawn keepers despite so readily wrapping their arms around this world. The blossoms hug their petals around whole human faces and cast spells to pull us all into the roots.
I have put too many words through these fingers already. What I wish to share is the scent of the blossom under the eerie light of an approaching storm. Bathed in my own sweat and raindrops – the outline of the everything we have known seems to shift – everything is the same in an completely new way.
And at the end of this, Eden walks in, and says, “Oh God, you’re blogging,” and walks out…haha…writing is so silly! Stretching the moment into words is laughable. Someday Eden will either do a stand-up comedy routine in which I am a hilarious joke, she already does a great routine about me, or tell it to psychiatrist for big bucks.
Life as Improv 
Magnolias so pretty and I must say I love these words:
Bathed in my own sweat and raindrops – the outlines of the everything we have known seems to shift – everything is the same in an completely new way.
So true,
Soon your guest will arrive.
B.
guten morgen, B.
I hope your night passed with more ease. In another life I would chose to be a physician with big listening ears and heart to be used as healing tools as well!
Much anticipation here for visitors who will be enjoyed, honored and cared for. So much is afoot.
hope it is a messy day for paint! x!m
Oh I plan on getting very messy today 🙂
B. I hope this finds you well and gives out all you desire.
Delightful post my friend.
Caimbeul!!
Did I catch you before you head back down the long road away from the chevron station? So glad to see your name – I wish Caimbeul could have his silent, solo flow and check ins too – perhaps an impulse within me here to brush away more dust from the interior www that connects us all. Does not seem unlikely to me – that this is so, already!
Be well and know my gratitude for the path you walk!
I’m so glad I found your blog, I’m in awe of it. You are a master of words. I adore your writing style. I can feel every thought come to life through your words. So powerful. It really is the exact inspiration I needed for my own writing. As a new blogger who is still seeking my style it’s nice to hear someone share theirs with such candor and grace.
“I am a sculptor up to my elbows with the muddy clay of flow ” That line rocks my world in whole new ways!! 🙂 Thanks for the inspiration.
Thank you for your inspiration! Being in the new places and expressing from your core has rippled out and is rocking many worlds 🙂