To return to the keyboard after months away feels delicious. Clacking is comfort.

While the world seems to spin in turmoil, I’m reminded again of the practice of looking for and engaging with the ordinary.

Spring allergies have found me, hitching Kleenex to my pockets and in my purse. I’m sneezing and blowing and swiping all throughout the day.

On one quick afternoon walk, pushing to find fifteen minutes of solitude, I fought the warm winds bringing in a storm over the mountains. These same winds, though, brought me a gift.

As I turned a corner bracing for another firm blow, I noticed all of the scents of the blooming flowers pushing to greet me. Lilacs, irises, poppies, and hydrangeas are popping up through the ground to wave hello. In with the winds come the familiar scents of spring.

Sure, the smells of flowers are easy to dismiss.

But in these blustery days, I was tickled to remember, these blooms appear without much coaxing. They sit, waiting to be admired, or ignored, as we go about our days.

Why do we plant them?

Aesthetics, sure. And perhaps, the truth goes deeper. May we hope for return. Hope for fragrance. Hope for beauty to emerge, over and over again.

Here we are again. What will you allow to grace you this week?