Altogether lovely, that describes my weekend.
Of course, two extra days didn’t hurt.
Two extra days in which to work a little and play a lot, bake a little and eat a lot . . . to shop and chat and laugh . . . to spend hour upon hour with those I love most of all.
So, as the weekend came to a close, I grabbed my mum (and my camera) and we meandered our way through the park. After all, she needed a diversion from having to say goodbye to her sister and I, well, I was on a mission. I was in search of forsythia.
Forsythia, you know, heralds spring. So, as we inch towards the end of a blustery winter, even sight of the spindliest of suckers will do . . .
I also made a friend of two; she, for instance, came out to say hello and pose for a photo . . .
Speaking of spectacles, blue skies and sunshine did nothing to sweeten the mood of this fellow . . .
All the same, I did finally happen upon a good dose of forsythia . . .
Looking back through my snapshots I realize this is what grace looks like. It’s not flashy, it doesn’t make a spectacle. More often than not, it blends right in with the surroundings. We have to look for it. But when we do, we just might find peace—mercy for a world worn soul–in the most unassuming of places . . .