There are few sights more pleasant to the eye than a wide cotton field when it is in bloom. It presents an appearance of purity, like an immaculate expanse of light, new-fallen snow.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
I'm a very big fan of winter-flowering shrubs and bulbs. You have the smell, you have the color - it's really like a present from God when something like that is in flower in the middle of the snow.
Snow isn't just pretty. It also cleanses our world and our senses, not just of the soot and grime of a Fife mining town but also of a kind of weary familiarity, a taken-for-granted quality to which our eyes are all too susceptible.
Flowers grow out of dark moments.
It's all about creation and surprise. It just needs to be appreciated and watered like flowers. You have to water flowers. These peaks will come again.
The thing about a plant is, let's say it will have 50 or 100 little points of bright red. If you look at the thing as it goes down, it becomes green in a way... It is way more spectacular than pointillist paintings where these things are played with, but never to the level of what happens in nature.
That though the radiance which was once so bright be now forever taken from my sight. Though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, glory in the flower. We will grieve not, rather find strength in what remains behind.
The snowdrop and primrose our woodlands adorn, and violets bathe in the wet o' the morn.
'Bloom' is basically the idea that all flesh is grass, and that we can look at natural plant growth and organic material as outgrowths of the Earth.
Truth, like the burgeoning of a bulb under the soil, however deeply sown, will make its way to the light.
The flower has opened, has been in the sun and is unafraid. I'm taking more chances; I'm bold and proud.
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