If as Simone Weil has described, attention to beauty can be a form of prayer, I’d say I’ve been doing a lot of praying this summer…watching Blanca bloom, gazing at the widening white blossoms, as they slowly, slowly grow like a small moon over days and nights waxing.
Once they have opened fully, I am caught in an intricate and elaborate net of petals. There comes a time of night after the party when the guests have left. It’s likely past midnight and I’m probably a little tired, have had a bit of bubbly, and rest in the quiet. Just me and the flower and I don’t want to leave off looking. I know it will be a long while before I am lucky enough to see this again. I am caught, or rather left in the deep silence with nothing but the flower. Darkness increases, the flower increases and this is all and everything.
Today it is bright and beautiful, a clear blue sky, just like the morning of September 11, 2001, that day of rage and horror and loss. This 9/11 let’s gaze at something enormously beautiful, something larger than that awful pit at Ground Zero, and let’s listen to something more beautiful than the ravings of the mad. And remember we’re part of something bigger and vastly more beautiful, maybe as close as the nearest leaf or blade of grass, or as distant as an infinitesimally tiny speck of star.
Late Night Bloomer 
Always lovely & thoughtful. So good seeing you for a minute. And I loved the post abt the party–Martha Blanca stewart…I forwarded it to a friend who is a great tea party hostess! xo