Tuesday, July 17, 2012

A Provençal Rose

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.

1 comment:

  1. 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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