Frosty May morning

The view to the mountains on a cold, clear, frosty May morning with toi-toi and flax.  Looks like water, but it isn't; just mist.

Violets

I am trapped by the scent of violets.  That sweet, but sugarless, fragrance.  It speaks of safety, rightness, dignity, rescue - even - and rises above all the sugary, vanillary, almost gluey smells that today's perfumes exude.  Especially at a Duty Free.  You can barely tell one from the next, unless you are reminded of the food you have recently eaten, soap you have recently used, or a cleaning product you have gainfully employed.

But violets.  Not too overpowering, not too cloying, but just the top note from a bunch of flowers picked for their beauty.

My grandfather always picked a small bunch of violets to wear in his lapel buttonhole.

Once, when I was lost somewhere outside Frankfurt, heading in completely the wrong direction for the airport, and had to change trains in the middle of nowhere, with no ability to communicate my problem in German,  a middle-aged, well-dressed couple registered my predicament and explained to the train conductor what had happened and, as I had no Euros left, even paid for my fare.  When we arrived back in Frankfurt, they took me to the correct station and pointed me in the right direction.  All the time I was with with them, I could smell her beautiful perfume of violets.  

Ever since then, I have tried to find her perfume.  I won't, of course, and even if I did, I would probably not buy it.  The pleasure is in the seeking.  And, just for the record, the scent is not only taken from the flower, but also from its leaf.  Perfect.

I asked...

I asked God to take away my pain.

God said, No.

It is not for me to take away,

but for you to give it up.

I asked God to make my handicapped

child whole.

God said, No.

Her spirit was whole,

her body was only temporary.

I asked God to grant me patience.

God said, No.

Patience is a by-product of

tribulations;

it isn't granted, it is learned.

I asked God to give me happiness.

God said, No.

Happiness is up to you.

I asked God to spare me pain.

God said, No.

Suffering draws you apart from

worldly cares and

brings you closer to me.

I asked God to make my spirit grow.

God said, No.

You must grow on your own,

but I will prune you to make you fruitful.

I asked for all things that I

might enjoy life.

God said, No.

I will give you life so that

you may enjoy all things.

I ask God to help me love others,

as much as he loves me.

God said...Ahhhh, finally you

have the idea.