Robert (gurdonark) wrote,
Robert
gurdonark

white blooms, with red lines

Today after a quick lunch at Cici's pizza buffet ("are you familiar with the buffet?", the counter kids ask as they take my five dollars, as if buffet intelligence is a rare thing), I went to the nearby local nature preserve for a half an hour's walk. As I drove over, I passed the newly-blooming Bradford Pear trees everywhere, white flowers that will be replaced by green leaves. It's all a bit like those websites that "dissolve" instead of merely jumping jarringly.

As I walked the wooded trail, I noticed tiny wildflowers had arisen everywhere.
Little yellow flowers on stalks, dandelion flowers and already-matured dandelion "seedlings", tiny blue flowers and gorgeous petals of a white flower, each petal centered with a beautiful red line. I saw sulphur butterflies everywhere, although the season is still too early for the gorgeous large swallowtail butterflies that delight here in north Texas. I felt a moment of sheer delight, just traipsing there briefly. I thought to myself that I must find my way to more such experiences. I renewed my self-pledge to walk the entire nine mile Trinity Trail, my "home trail" where scraggle forest and fields wind around a huge lake. If I get there at first sunlight, I might see hawks, roadrunners, herons, and anything appealing. I imagine that 9 miles, gently hiking, would take me 4 hours.
That might be rapture--but this weekend I have my chess tournament to run.

I called the Pakistani restaurant from whom I am renting a meeting room about the table set-up for the chess tournament. The manager with whom I'd dealt had been laid off, but his replacement promised to link up with me tomorrow. The Dallas Morning News folks let me know I was too late for their "things to do" section, but I was still grateful for the reply e mail.

I am looking forward to directing another tournament, but right now my mind drifts into a vision of tiny purple flowers, enticing tiny pollinating insects--a dance so old, it seems almost trite to describe, but a dance so real and necessary and beautiful anyway.
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