Hidden Beauty

Hidden Beauty
You will find treasures there
In the bosom of a rose—In a tulip’s heart
Inside the flesh of a lily, a trillium, an iris,
A zinnia, all bound up
Treasures finer than pure gold
 Like gemstones
Nestled among velvet wrappings
 Hidden deep inside until
The sky’s heat-lamp warms it;
Rain caresses, 
Coaxes petals back;
 Colors some out to sing
The real flower is unearthed.
People rush along—hurry—hidden
Swallowed by coats and sweaters;
Fleeing a critical world,
Protecting their hearts,
Shielding their souls,
Then the light dawns—Jesus!
He shines more and more
He comes with peace that heals
Deep wounds.
Soft rain of truth 
Wonderful light of His face
Warms and beautifies
Layers fall back
Petals unfold—showing true selves
Authentic—open and honest
Smiling back at the world once more;
Precious as the day
He made them.



© 2014 by Elece Hollis, author of  A Celebration of Family with Helen Steiner Rice   http://bit.ly/1m7uCeK

Read Elece’s other blogs:  http://whatsgoodabouthome.blogspot.com/ 

Wild Prairie Roses

In a dry and sun-filled place like this along a fence bordering a highway, a wild rose bush will encumber a fence until it hides it completely. It is a beautiful sight in late May and early June. I found this rose along highway 16 in Okmulgee County, Oklahoma.

An old fence post is barely visible. You can’t see the barbed wire at all.
A rose bush can grow up a post or tree and overtake it.

This bush is brighter colored than most. It was at an abandoned homesite.
 
In shady spots, the pasture rose blooms. 
Its blooms are less profuse and  the simplicity is wonderful.
Finding a wild rose climbing a pasture fence, is like finding a friend in an unexpected place.


Wild Prairie Roses

In a dry and sun-filled place like this along a fence bordering a highway, a wild rose bush will encumber a fence until it hides it completely. It is a beautiful sight in late May and early June. I found this rose along highway 16 in Okmulgee County, Oklahoma.
An old fence post is barely visible. You can’t see the barbed wire at all.
A rose bush can grow up a post or tree and overtake it.
This bush is brighter colored than most. It was at an abandoned homesite.
 
In shady spots, the pasture rose blooms. 
Its blooms are less profuse and  the simplicity is wonderful.
Finding a wild rose climbing a pasture fence, is like finding a friend in an unexpected place.

Wanderings and Old Homesteads

O, how I love to find a old homesite! I love to imagine who might have settled there. Where did they come from? What was the land like when they first saw it? How did they change it? How did they live here? Why did they leave?

I love to search out a place on the prairie in the spring when daffodils bloom and wave their yellow ruffles at me to show where an old house once stood.

Old fences still enclose a small dooryard and every spring flowers planted by some pioneer woman push to the sunlight and the blue sky. 
Fallen trees like this one become spots lush with moss and tangles of flowers.
 
Here purple bearded iris and yucca plants spread among the briers where a house once stood, where children played marbles in shady spots and watched for horses, wagons or farm trucks passing by.
Paperwhites  and narcissus come up from bulbs and tubers that have spread underground.

An old gate once swung from a frame here and a tree grew up through it. Mystery hidden in plain sight. I passed this gate many times before I noticed it. In the summer greenery hides it and an old cellar and cistern  sleep behind it in the undergrowth beside Cane Creek.

It causes me to wonder who lived there. Who planted Morning Glory vines on this fence?

Wanderings and Old Homesteads

O, how I love to find a old homesite! I love to imagine who might have settled there. Where did they come from? What was the land like when they first saw it? How did they change it? How did they live here? Why did they leave?

I love to search out a place on the prairie in the spring when daffodils bloom and wave their yellow ruffles at me to show where an old house once stood.

Old fences still enclose a small dooryard and every spring flowers planted by some pioneer woman push to the sunlight and the blue sky. 
Fallen trees like this one become spots lush with moss and tangles of flowers.

 

Here purple bearded iris and yucca plants spread among the briers where a house once stood, where children played marbles in shady spots and watched for horses, wagons or farm trucks passing by.
Paperwhites  and narcissus come up from bulbs and tubers that have spread underground.

An old gate once swung from a frame here and a tree grew up through it. Mystery hidden in plain sight. I passed this gate many times before I noticed it. In the summer greenery hides it and an old cellar and cistern  sleep behind it in the undergrowth beside Cane Creek.

It causes me to wonder who lived there. Who planted Morning Glory vines on this fence?