Scented Spring

The dampness from the morning dew seeped through my felt clogs and socks to cool my toes as I wandered the grass carpets amongst the trees of Patterson Garden early this morning.  The beauty and stillness overtakes you and somehow drowns out the noise of cars just beyond the entrance.   The garden is a place where nature shelters you from the everyday, where robins freely dance and a hawk suns itself on a stump. 

There are many trees - large and small, young and old and in between - to catch your eye. But it was the blossoms which assaulted my senses - eyes glued to their beauty and smell absorbing their various and mingled scents. 

The apple blossoms are majestic in their abundance, the plum blossoms are now few, the mayday not yet profuse, the chokecherry beautiful in it's simplicity and, as has been their place for a hundred years now on prairies farms and village fences, the yellow honeysuckle to guard the entrance.  Meanwhile, in spite of it's youth, a small lilac blooms and adds to the mixture of scent and beauty.

As I left I joined the long queue of vehicles transporting us to our work places - but in my spirit was a pleasantness which I carried through the work day and later as I walked the halls of St Paul's hospital, wandered through a stuffy book store and as my husband insisted on a renovation scouting trip to the "north end" which ensnared us in rush hour traffic for an hour.  

I've downloaded my photos now and share the beauty of the blossoms, now, as I sit by an open window glancing often at the tops of the trees waving in the breeze and the clouds passing by - but still relishing in the scented spring and hoping it will continue on for some days to come.