Aigaliers, France
Outside in the breakfast courtyard, where even the sandy-blonde gravel is elegant, the roses bloom. Whenever I travel outside my little daily sphere, I am always amazed to find myself surrounded by beauty and sights that are all that I dreamed of. As though, surely, my imagination must have run ahead of itself and concocted such possibilities.
But then there are the roses and the pretty gravel and I pinch myself that it's all true.
Your thoughts here are as beautiful as the pale pink rose. The idea that your imagination has run ahead of you and concocted such sweet possibilities brings a smile to my face. Isn't it all the sweeter knowing that it wasn't your imagination... you're seeing the fingerprint of the Father, His outpouring of grace?!
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