They are thriving where they were planted.
And thriving where they planted themselves. I didn't know morning glories were self-seeding, but it turns out that they are. Popping up in the tomato patch, the zen garden, anywhere there's a bit of soil to anchor them.
Early in the cool morning, they open to greet the day. By evening, they're wilted and shriveled. New blossoms will open the next morning, to wither in their turn.
Early in the morning, when it's quiet, when the birds aren't quite awake, when the sun is barely over the horizon, when the day is fresh and cool - that's when I'm happy to be a morning person. Some mornings, the moon is still up in the western sky when the sun is rising in the east. Sometimes the sky is lit with purple and magenta, shot through with orange as the sun rises through banks of dark clouds. Other times the sky is the soft pink of cherry blossoms. Or just a brilliant hard blue with a fierce yellow sun.
Early mornings indoors are frantic, laden with to-do lists, schedules, chores. Stepping outside for a few minutes wipes all of that away. Cool air, new light, bird song and everywhere the vibrant living green.
Morning has broken like the first morning.
Blackbird has spoken like the first bird.
Praise for the morning, praise for the singing
Praise for them springing
Fresh from the world.
