by elece hollis
It’s winter. Days are cold and often the sky is gray,
But wherever I roam, wherever my eye looks
There is life, beauty, color, design—-Signs of a living, breathing, caring, artistic god.
The Color White
By Elece Hollis
Spring is yellow forsythia and daffodils, red of tulips, hyacinth purple, white crocus, lilies and all shades of bright.
Summer is every color under the sky-blue, it’s every shade of green, white clover, and red roses a picket fence.
Fall has crimson apples, sunflowers, leaves of orange, yellow, and Sweetgum purple, honeysuckle, and white of frost on the windows.
Winter is brown and gray, but holds white of the first falling snow, white of moon’s shine and sparkling stars.
White is a country church’s freshly painted steeple, white flesh of a river trout, of salt, of a lamb’s wool
White of new cotton socks, white of sifted bread flour, white of butterfly wings and angel robes in Christmas plays.
White is drifting clouds, white of pages between the lines, of coconut milk, a polar bear fur, of egret’s feathers.
White of a bride’s gown, a porcelain sink, powdered sugar, whipped cream for pumpkin pie, white of wave crests and thundering waterfalls,
I love white. White is every color, every place, every season––every rhyme.
“If you want to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe.” Carl Sagan
Lattice top pie made from ingredients provided by the inventor of the universe.
This blue bowl was shaped and crafted by a trained potter. This apple was shaped and handcrafted by the original potter.
“An apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Why don’t doctors like apples?
“It wasn’t an apple from the tree that caused the trouble in the Garden of Eden; it was the pair on the ground.” unknown
“Anyone can count the seeds in an apple, but only God can count the number of apples in a seed.” Robert H. Schuller
“Just when we are certain we have seen everything wonderful in the world, God surprises us!” c.e.hollis
Today the wind is blowing and the wind chimes clang so loud their music has turned into racket. I may have to go take them down and lay them across the porch swing seat for a day or two. The wind is gusty and it is the kind that comes from the south in the morning, then seems to come from the east, later from the north, and then brings cold from the northwest.
So begins a new season––our autumn is coming to us. Our summer has overstepped it’s boundaries and the themometer on the porch reads eighty degrees even today. Tomorrow is forecast sunny with a high of seventy.
Change of season, like all change, seems to come suddenly even when behind schedule, even when past due. We expect it and watch for it, dread it and then long for it. Finally––we open hearts to it and hug it to us joyfully.
I walked out among the peacn trees this morning and saw it is nearly time for the shucks to dry and begin splitting. Soon the ground will be littered with pecans and we’ll be filling buckets and baskets with the treasure. Our mama cows are delivering three new calves to us this fall. Autumn comes and always makes us feel rich indeed.