Tiny tendrils, tender waxy strands

Breaking free from the thick ball of woodsy nourishment.

My hyacinth has bloomed.

Only $3.99 from Publix in a glass like one on a restaurant’s table

oil and vinegar.

I chose purple this year when I saw the sweet white bursting through the earth in my little spot.

A surprise from two years ago.

Now, the purple is vibrant.

The bulb strong and barely contained, a thick waxy color, aubergine.

The color I’d been seeking to add to the folds of a gown on a painting in progress.

A piece that once was muted grey, ivory and a hint of salmon is now bursting through in cautious but captivating color.

What’s going on, Lisa?

I suppose we shall see.

Days ago, I said a prayer that felt odd but honest.

God, help me to see colors.

Then, the scarlet cardinals came, the line of yellow daffodils against an old shed, the pillowy verdant green moss on the path and

Aubergine, also a name for eggplant is inviting me to see color as more than pretty,

As significant.

I asked to see color.

And color is surprising me with strength.

And light.

And imaginings of beautiful things.

Of unclouded days.

“The eyes of your spirit allow revelation-light to enter into your being. If your heart is unclouded, the light floods in!”
‭‭Matthew‬ ‭6‬:‭22‬ ‭TPT‬‬