After winter's barren palette, dabs of color dot the countryside.
Magnolia unfurls layers of color with each opening leaf...
hyacinths split the ground and bubble up like purple lava,
and St. Patrick's color returns.
With each new leaf and blossom, beauty is restored to the landscape.
But for me, beauty is not an end in itself;
it always points to its Maker,
the One who leads me by still waters,
Who restores my soul.
And I whisper my thanks.
