Driving home today, I was full of beignet and drowsy in the sunshine. The pollen was gilding the air with a hazy of surreality. Across the eastbound lanes of the interstate floated a yellow swallowtail, the first one I've seen this year. Even the Mississippi roadsides were exquisite works of art.
I've never seen the redbuds bloom like they're doing this year. Splashes of amethyst and the rarer rusty-red break up the multitudinous shades of green. Bursts of white from the newly-opened dogwoods shine like left-over patches of the snow we had earlier, but far more delicate and more welcome. Twining through it all like an ornament or a crown is the gold of confederate jasmine.
Even a long road trip can be made a pleasure with the right scenery. As much as I like Monet and Pissarro, I don't think either of them could have produced anything more lovely or restoring to the soul that the landscape I passed through today. Of course, I am no art critic; I only know what stirs my own heart.
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And then you said.....