Small perfect pieces of beauty surround us and go unnoticed, perhaps we forget to look or we take them for granted. The orchid reaches perfection without shouting and drawing attention to itself. No hurry--no push--just a gentle, slow journey to completion. The end result is a bloom created in pastels; pink, lavendar, and yellow. It has become a perfect flower.
Maybe perfection arrives as a rare day in January when the cold lifts and the sun shows its face to warm the air. Hope starts to spark and you know that winter will pass in its own time and patience settles in to wait for longer days.
The old farm left much as it started; sheds and out buildings storing history as keepers of the past. All reminding us what was and how far we have journeyed. To appreciate the present we must know the past. These simple things ground us in a world of turmoil. Looking out of ourselves and reveling in the renewal of of our soul, we find a place to rest and find that perfect moment.
