raindrops on roses

I graduated from one of my classes a few days short of two weeks ago. One of the things we had to prepare and present was a vision board and last Sunday, I actualized one of the things on my interpretation of such board when I visited a meditation center to help me deepen my spiritual practice. On my way home, I was gifted an illegal parking space due to a commencement being held on The Mall; the distraction of the ceremony granted me just enough time to park and hop out of the car to photograph for the first time this year some of the roses in front of the Smithsonian Castle. Continuous misting rain produced beaded jewels in every box of the garden…

Heavenly scents sent from heaven enhanced by the closeness of slightly humid air, I was drunk before I knew what hit me and oh what a pleasant and welcome intoxication it was! I did sober up enough to drive the short distance home as voices from the Sound of Music sang somewhere in my head; raindrops on roses, being caught in the rain on a warm day, moist dewy skin, the rose garden itself certainly make my list of favorite things.

The Sound of Music brings up more than just verses in songs. The opening scene on top of the mountain of green grass under open sky with scenery as far as the eye could see took my breath away as a child. I now wonder how much that influenced one of the places I go to when I close my eyes to meditate. My vision -- a meadow of hip high colorful wild flowers everywhere blowing in the sun shine breeze, the sound of rolling waves breaking in the ocean beyond the cliff a short distance from where I am standing rock me into peace as I drift along before I come back -- is quite different from what I saw on the big screen.

When I made my vision board, I used a torn paper technique. The freedom of tearing paper and gluing it down without too much thought always reveals something unexpected, on occasion something I need to see and this time, an abstract mountain rose up under my hands. I planted seeds of what I wish to blossom for me all over that hill; my hill is alive with the sound of my life so as I whirl around, arms outstretched…

keep your peepers open!®