God, She's Just So Beautiful

Well hello there, beautiful. It was a vague statement, a little bit like a catcall, but it encapsulated lots of heavy emotion, and simplified it. My back can only bear so much heavy emotion at one time.

There were pink crepe myrtle petals scattered on the driveway like a wedding had taken place between earth and sky. Their union seemed to have resulted in lots and lots of rain, and a bit of dramatic thunder too. But by this evening the bride and groom had settled in for their honeymoon, and the rain slacked off. Love was still thick in the air in the form of humidity. I felt it bristling my hair, which might be just a bit like catching the bouquet.

Love is always heavy in the air after weddings. It has an effect on people, and makes them act irrational. But I don’t need a wedding to act irrational when I see her. God, she’s just so beautiful.

Beauty is only the accumulation of cells on the external body, and often it is only luck that they all come together into something aesthetically pleasing. At least in the case of us humans. Beauty is only skin deep, people say. Yes, yes, of course that is a good adage, but everyone needs something beautiful in their lives—at least once in a while. Once in a while is what I get. Her stay is never long enough.

The air was full of that heaviness, and all the plants were rejoicing by making the only noises they know how—the soft rustling of branches in the wind, the steady drip of rain falling from still saturated leaves. On the soggy grass I unknowingly walked toward her.

It had been a year. A year is almost long enough to forget how much pleasure a person gets out of beauty. You forget how intense the senses get stimulated; how the thrill of those senses rushes through the body, awakening parts that have slept too long.

The rush hadn’t hit me yet, but it hit the frogs. They were full of romance. As I passed the dripping trees they burst into song, and it all felt a bit like a grand moment of romantic reunion from a play. The conductor gave the cue at just the right moment, and the orchestra burst into music. I thought nothing of the music, like any proper character would just prior to the climax.

I was twirling my hair around my finger in deep thought when I first caught sight of her. For an instant I stopped, as her image was a bit vague through the wire fence. She was draped in brilliant red, which was impossible to miss. It all came rushing back to me in an instant then, and that year of absence was nothing, as should be the case in any real love story.

The senses invigorated with the memory of the silky feel of her parts beneath my fingertips, the soft smell of the mingling of earth and sky, the look of perfect shiny youth, and only the sound of a distant hawk’s cry because sometimes nothing needs to be said.

I stood there just gazing for a moment in silence, but then I found my voice as I edged closer. I needed to break the tension and lighten the weight of emotion that was heavy on my back in all that romantic humidity.

And……

So….

I….

Said…

To...

Her…

With…

Bated…

Breath…

Well hello there, beautiful.

Her name is Zinnia. God, isn’t she beautiful?

A good looking flower always comes with a few good looking friends.

Here’s an older lady, a little worn down, but still gorgeous.

I am heading into the last-minute planning of my son’s homeschooled education for this fall, and my daughter’s first run with preschool. At the moment my life is scattered with open books, messy calendars, and sharpened pencils. If you decide to leave a comment, I may not respond for a day or so, but I will still love you for it. After all, all that romantic humidity is still hanging around in the air.