The days are getting shorter, which means the nights are getting longer. This morning we drank our coffee out on the deck in the dark. It's also very cloudy here this morning. In that pre-sunrise, cloudy gloom my white geraniums, moss roses, petunias, and begonias looked almost ghostly. The vibrant colors that shine in the daytime appeared gray, but the white petals glowed.
An article in Southern Living a couple years ago introduced me to white gardens and what happens to them in fog, at dusk or dawn, or on a moon-lit night. Up to that point, I never even considered planting white flowers. However, now they're among my favorite.
Some friends are expecting their first grandbaby (Hi Rob and Sherry). When their daughter was only a few weeks along, she had an ultrasound and the parents got to see their baby's heart beating. At that time the baby was actually about the size of a grain of rice. A grain of rice.
But so what? Each one of us began tiny and white flowers are common.
I think sometimes I wear blinders on my eyes and my heart because to actually process and take in everything would leave my mouth hanging open in awe. It might prove to be too much.
However, miracles are still miracles, even when I don't acknowledge them. A miracle does not need my blessing to happen. But I do control whether I take the blinders off or leave them in place.
Miracles are still miracles.