My mom has such a quiet way.
She notices the small things—
a flower just opening, a stem leaning too far, a bloom past its prime but still with grace.
She gathers a few blooms, never many.
Whatever her garden offers.
A sprig of lavender.
A daisy.
Sometimes mint.
She places them in a little old bottle, places it just so, here and there.
By the sink. On the windowsill.
It’s devotion, a prayer, her way to share beauty~
Simply xx
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