Since I park in the garage on the alley, it's rare that I walk up my own front steps. I made it to the top of the first set of stairs before it registered there had been a small brown lump at the bottom of them. I turned around and bent down to see what it was.
There, nestled in the snow, was a perfect, dried, round hydrangea blossom. None of my neighbors have hydrangeas in the summer (much less in January) and I live no where near a florist. I have no idea where it came from but I picked it up and smiled for the first time all day.
The crazy thing is that last year, on a really tough day, I found a branch of dried hydrangeas stuck under my garage door.
It's a mystery. And I love it.
Photos taken by me.
4 comments:
Stories like this give me the good goosebumps. I love it!
oooooooooooooooh I love it too!!!
I'm obsessed with hydrangeas! This is great.
Your best post yet... from the view of inspiration.
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