I heard a dying man say this on Gunsmoke. “I have lived under God all my life but I’ve never seen his son.” Been trying to understand this thinking maybe it’s from a verse in Psalm 37:25 that reads, “I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging for bread.” Maybe it’s means God never abandons the righteous. Maybe he knew he was dying and was speaking of seeing Jesus. We perceive God by looking at Jesus. Going to ponder this quote.

Mother Nature had a tantrum today. It was a blow. She made the bamboos dance in the wind gusts, perfecting their tango moves and walks. Been reading up on the tango after watching the bamboo dance furiously in the wind. Never seen such bending and twisting. They are bent over now heavy with rain like a group of monks, dressed in spring green hooded robes praying at dusk. When the sun rises the bamboo will stretch their branches, drying off in God’s glorious warmth.

The sun came out from under the storm clouds early afternoon, dried up the rain, cleared the clouds away. A thin veil of cigar smoke clouds frolicked across the sky trying to join up with each other to produce more rain. The wind didn’t want to be outdone by Mother Nature so he huffed and puffed making the afternoon cool, rudely slapping the wind chimes around.

Mother Nature has such a wondrous watercolor palette of spring colors. Driving home yesterday I saw a raspberry redbud entwined with bright yellow wild jasmine vines. The contrasting colors were so eye catching I thought only Mother Nature’s paintbrushes could create something so beautiful.

As I sit in the swing with the twilight of dusk walking across my yard, the sun is filtering down through the old trees in my neighborhood so beautifully, highlighting the myriad of green tints in the spring’s new foliage. Dusk has descended over my yard now, the quiet of the gloaming is upon the earth. The cardinals are flocking to the feeders glad to be shed of the fighting finches. I’ve never seen the male cardinals more handsome in their crimson robes, their mates elegantly frocked in soft brown velvet gowns. One lone dove is walking across the street like a wind up toy, it’s head bobbing, back and forth, back and forth. I look at the songbirds as jewels decorating my yard, small feathered creatures that inspire me with their beauty and their songs of praise. They give me joy and hope, soothe my soul, give me strength, validate my faith.

This is how I feel today. “Sometimes I just look up, smile and say, ‘I know that was you. Thank you.’”

“The beautiful spring came, and when Nature resumes her loveliness, the human soul is apt to revive also.” — Harriet Ann Jacob’s