Secrets Along The Garden Paths

   Some of the best kept secrets can be found in the garden. Each morning offers a new surprise whether in the form of baby birds, caterpillars transforming to butterflies or blooms that are there only for those who search.  My gardens are pretty much left to wild abandon as plants seem to outgrow their gardens or pots.  This "rainforest" look offers plenty of hiding spots for the critters.  Each leaf is alive with lizards, skinks and frogs, not to mention, myriads of bugs.  Turtles, snakes and toads are often found hiding in the shadiness of the winding paths of the Small Gardens.  These are friends that are welcome to reside here but its those hidden blooms that intrigue.  

  Yesterday, the turmeric plants did not disappoint.  The lush (five feet tall) leaves had to be pushed aside to see the blooms.  These appear down in the midst of the stalks and bear a great resemblance to a fleshy pinecone of bright colors.  Most in the garden are white with bright pink and yellow flowers in the bracts.  While some of the flowers are edible, there are a few that are not.  Those are strictly ornamental.  (It is best to know just what type you are growing before foraging any parts!)  Edible or not, the turmeric blooms offer a bit of whimsy along the garden path.  Most folks walk right past without ever seeing this beauty.

  Another "almost" hidden bloom was found after the turmeric bracts.  A waterlily had opened a gorgeous pink bloom but it was half hidden beneath the pads.  Usually, the blooms are on stalks that are above the floating pads (leaves) but this time that was reversed.  The pads were stalked and curled upwards while the bloom floated on the water's surface.  As a bit of added interest, all parts of the waterlily are edible, although, I have not had a whim to try them...maybe some day soon.

  Folks, there is something highly tranquil about taking a stroll down a garden path at the break of dawn and finding hidden secrets of either flora or fauna.  We all need that in the craziness of the world around us.  In the gardens...there is peace.

Chasing Butterflies

   Most of the time, "chasing butterflies" refers to attempting to do a pointless task or just frittering away time.  Then, there are those who look at things logically and figure that the phrase pertains to the act of ridding caterpillars from the garden.  In my case, it is neither.  I chase butterflies as a form of therapy or perhaps I am just a wee bit distracted by the beauty found only in the fragility of the graceful insect.  Either way, I do chase butterflies.  Son says that I am just easily entertained and that my brain allows me to find tranquility in what others seem to overlook.  Maybe?

  Yesterday morning, a lovely swallowtail butterfly flitted from bloom to bloom in the garden. It was in no hurry and seemed a bit worn and tired.  I felt a certain connection with the bug as I sort of feel the same.  I am tired and tattered but still trying to function.  There is something about the summertime heat that wears thin...give me fall and winter and I am good.  The butterfly...not so much.  I am sure it prefers this weather over the winter drear.

  Yes, I do chase butterflies.  In fact, this photograph was taken through the branches of the grapefruit tree as the creature sat placidly in the morning sun on the beautyberry bush.  I was not about to disturb the butterfly's rest after it worked hard to get breakfast.  I knew just how it felt.

Somewhere Beyond the Garden Gate

   Gardens are one of few places where you can find yourself while losing yourself.  It is hard to understand that if you are only exposed to well manicured lawns and overly neat flower beds.  I have neither of those.  It is my habit of letting things grow where they may and letting them spill over to greet the other plants as they please.  Parsley visits the basil while mingling with the wild purslane.  Tomatoes have made friends with petunias and zinnias all the while shaking hands with the jasmine vines.  Squash shade the bell peppers who have a tendency to hug the garlic.  It is this way throughout the yard.  Pathways lead you everywhere...yet nowhere.  You get lost among the towering plants that are blooming with birds, bees, lizards and butterflies.  Then...you find yourself.  

 

   I meandered through the lemon trees and around the crape myrtle on my way to the vegetable plot.  The gate was almost hidden by the 6 foot tall lemon grass, the turmeric and four-o-clocks.  A slight haze had settled in over the grape vines and fig trees making the whole place look mystical.   I gathered a few tomatoes, squash and cucumbers along with a handful of herbs, I was enthralled by the way the first rays of sunlight were filtering through the branches of the old oak trees.  The entire garden was dappled with bits of glimmering hope.  Then a thought...perhaps my garden is the way the world is actually meant to be...a bit disheveled...a little bit wild and woolly...yet filled with a whole lot of love, hope and peace.  Magic grows here among the plants and critters...the magic of tranquility.

  

Missing Aunt Helen....

   Somewhere down the line, Aunt Helen must have really made a great impression on me.  She had the ability to see beauty in even the most mundane of things, lived her life with a great deal of imagination and simply being authentic all the while being spontaneous and a bit quirky.  If something appealed to her, it was worked into her life without worry that others would sneer at her.  She wore flowers in her hair, used herbs and decorated her place with color, gardens and things from the past.  She pretty much "invented" that "Cottagecore" lifestyle about a half century before it even was given a name.   To say Aunt Helen left an indelible mark on my life is an understatement.  This is coming more apparent as I age and give up trying to meet the approval of others.  

  The Little Bayou House has slowly undergone a change from meeting the needs of my kids entertaining their friends to being all out eccentric.  If something appeals to me, it is added to the decor.  Granted everything has to be functional but a bit of quirkiness is the drawing card.  Folks realize this and often gift oddities to me.  "This was great aunt's teacup.  I hate to just throw it away but it does not fit with my place." or "Grandpa had this for years but I have no idea what it is."  Yep, Great Aunt's teacup and Grandpa's plumb bob have found a home.

  All of this influence came flooding over me recently as I sat in my great-grandmother's rocking chair just reminiscing over times past.  Things spilled from the cobwebbed corners of my brain where they have been stored just waiting for the opportune moment to bring a smile.  Thoughts of Aunt Helen soon took over and the heart filled to the brim with the special moments that I was able to spend with her.  These visits were far and few in between since she did not live nearby and was often halfway around the world but our connection remained even into adulthood.  I miss her greatly.

Bayou Tranquility

   Sometimes when I view the photographs of the day's happenings, they bring back vivid memories of other times.  This morning, the rising sun streamed through the pines on the opposite shore casting shadows on the water.  Several years ago, I took almost the same photograph...then, last year, the image was nigh on identical.  The only difference is the grove of trees is getting vastly thinner with all the "progress" on new houses.  No one seems to understand that we actually NEED trees but, what they do across the way is none of my business, I suppose.  So, I turn a blind eye to the ruination of the woods and try to find a positive side of it.  This is a fault of mine.  Let others fret over what is being done since I am old and possibly won't have to deal with the outcome.  They can deal with their own mess. 

  I do not turn a blind eye to everything, however.  I am one of those weird people that just looks at things a bit differently.  I figure there is beauty in all things if we only search for it...hence, the photograph of shadows on the water.  Life is too short to go around viewing ugliness.  That brings forth only despair.  It is far better to seek out beauty and fill the spirit with tranquility.  In this old, angry world, look for serenity and happiness.  Find your peace wherever you can.  The Bayou is where I find mine.

Alone...

   Early this morning as I sat on the pier, the only feeling I had was peace.  The sunrise, the patches of fog, the quietness...all created a feeling of tranquility that only the Bayou can bring.  I felt that sense of belonging. The work day started and ended with much the same feeling...I belonged. Then, this evening, an entirely different feeling engulfed me.  It was weird.  It was not something that I usually entertain but I felt alone...entirely alone.  This is not to even be confused with loneliness...I was not lonely...I was simply alone.  The sensation that I was the only person within miles engulfed me and lingered throughout the evening.  Trust me, folks, it is a strange feeling...very strange.  Other than the ticking of the clocks and the purring of the cat, nary a sound could be heard.  No traffic on the highway to the north...no boat traffic on the Bay.  Looking out the door...nothing could be seen.  A thick blanket of fog blocked any lights from across the Bayou and even the distant shore.  Nothing. 

  This all came after a day of feeling quite accomplished since I completed every chore that I had set before myself last evening.  Laundry was done, pizza sauce had been made and home-canned, "swamp shack" (aka...greenhouse) was painted, cabbage plants were set into the rows and even an art project was started.  I should have felt on top of the world but, instead, I felt alone.  It is hard to describe.  Perhaps...it is better described as being content in solitude and not wishing to return to the frenzy of the outside world.  Alone but definitely not lonely.  I pulled Bat, the Bayou Prince Cat, a bit closer and relished the solitude...the tranquility...the aloneness.

That Feeling Of Belonging

   People often ask me why I cling to my little house here on the Bayou.  I have one answer...because it is HOME.  I find peace here.  This is where I belong and where I shall stay as long as possible.  This...this is my little piece of paradise.

  Early this morning as I was on the pier, I had to smile as several dolphins were putting on quite a show just for me...obviously, just for me since I was the only person up at the crack of dawn when they started.  I smiled because of a recent news article where the reporter was "surprised" to see dolphins and porpoises in the Bay.  Hmmm...perhaps that reporter is not very observant or perhaps he has just never spent much time on the water.  The lovely creatures can be seen frolicking whenever there are mullet schooling. Today, the dolphins were quite close to the pier.  I watched as the pod worked together to corral mullet into a tight wad so their hunting could be easier.  Then...a surprise!  Among the adults, there were two calves with this pod!  

  As I sat there watching the show, an overwhelming sense of belonging came over me.  This...this is where I belong.  This...this is indeed my little piece of paradise. Just home...just home.

Losing the Garden Path but Finding Paradise

   Lately, with the yard cleanup taking place mainly in the back part of the property, the Small Gardens have run amok with new growth.  I have had neither the time nor the energy to do even minor maintenance there. The Small Gardens now greatly resemble some wild and woolly rainforest!  Not that I mind as the prior work put into this area has proven to be worth the effort.  It gives a sense of serenity to wander through the overgrown tropical plants even in their unkempt state.

  

This morning, I took the time to transplant twenty hibiscus shrubs from their tiny six-inch seed pots into the border gardens before heading to the back cleanup.  As I was digging holes for the seedlings, the sun was just peeping over the pines on the opposite side of the Bayou.  As the rays started shooting down one of the garden paths, I was fully in awe of how secluded the area seemed.  The lush, healthy overgrowth nearly made the path unpassable.  Each nook and cranny held a different bloom or fruit.  Taking a few minutes from the task at hand, I breathed the sweet aromas of flowers and early morning freshness.  I listened as the birds chirped happily as they feasted upon the remnant blueberries and a few remaining figs.  I felt the morning dew and the cool breeze coming from the Bay.  I thought (and relished the thought) of how this was paradise.  This was how life should be.  This is what takes me from the stress of dealing with people's greed and drama to being perfectly blissful.  This is the magic of the Small Gardens.  This is where I belong...where I find tranquility.

Which Way Is It?

  I often wonder about the logic of things.  Is there always a certain method...a precise order...a definite logic behind everything or are some things pure happenstance?  Yep, being left alone on the Bayou for too long can, indeed, mess with the brain and make one ponder far too many things.  The thoughts come flying out of the dusty corners of the brain and flop together in no certain order or in perfect synchronization.  I do ponder things while out doing chores or wandering the marsh line.  Today's ponderance?  Why do certain things happen when, where and how they do when there is nothing that set them in motion other than serendipity.  (And, on another note...serendipity...is not the best word ever?  Seems to me that we should all live serendipitously!  Love it!)

  What brought this mishmash of thoughts in action was the sight of a lovely jonquil.  This was the first jonquil of the season and brought such happiness.  The thought that spring is here (or, at least, near) is a happy thought for the gardens.  The jonquil bloom, itself, was not that thought provoking but rather where the happy, little blossom decided to bloom made me start pondering.  The yellow flower was in the midst of the cabbage patch.  (Yes, I have cabbage patches this year.  There are no organized rows...only plants here and there.)  Back to our jonquil...did the jonquil grow in the cabbage patch or was it the other way around?  Are the cabbages in the jonquil bed?  Apparently, they get along well and have no problems sharing the little patch of ground.  I did plant the cabbages there but do not recall ever having jonquil bulbs in this spot.  Just happenstance?  Pure serendipity?  Or forgetfulness?  Take your choice.  I shall enjoy my jonquil AND the cabbage!  Life is good when there is no one to tell you that your quirky thoughts are not acceptable. 

The Glorious Light

  I often claim that my predawn time on the end of the pier is my escape.  I can meditate, ready my mind and body for the day's chores and then sit back to enjoy the sunrise.  It is my "me time".  It is the time when the whole world seems at peace.  I enjoy this habit and make no excuses for keeping such odd hours.

  This morning, heavy clouds blocked out most of the sun's attempts of giving one of its glorious performances.  Instead of the kaleidoscopic array of colors, there was dark grey.  Instead of sunbeams shooting across the horizon, there was one momentary "hole" that let the bright rays spill out of the inkiness.  That "hole" was mesmerizing even though fleeting.  It almost appeared to be a doorway to a much more beautiful place than this world could ever offer.  The urge to step through that entryway was tempting the body and soul. 

  Bat (the cat) and I watched the brilliance for the few moments it appeared.  Then...total darkness engulfed us again.  Our chance to "escape" had slipped from reach and now we had to settle in to face the day here.  No problem...he and I started our day with happy ideas bouncing around in our minds...his of exploring the rooftop of the greenhouse and mine of springtime plantings.  Life goes on so we might as well make the best of it.  

Golden Clams

   I often speak of the "golden glow" of the water during some sunrises.  The entire Bay and Bayou appear to be afire with the reflection of the horizon.  It is mesmerizing.  In fact, I am rarely missing from the pier at daybreak simply because the kaleidoscopic colors send the brain into a frenzy of happiness.  This morning, however, that did not happen.  I was there, the sun rose but the water was missing.  The north wind had pushed the water far out from the shoreline so there was no glorious color being cast.  Mud does not do as well.  Not that I was too disappointed as...the sun did rise and I was alive to see it.  It is just a case of finding other magical moments to entertain the mind.  I did.  As I turned to head back up the hillside, a glimmer of "gold" was found!  Embedded in that slippery mud was a hefty clamshell.  While the mud does not reflect the sunrays, that clamshell sure did.  In fact, it practically gleamed!  There...there was the magical moment!

  It does not take much to make the wheels in my brain to start whirring with excitement.  All sorts of thoughts reeled about in a frenetic pace but the most prevalent was "How have I never seen the incredible beauty in a common clamshell?"  The mud, itself, even became more lovely simply due to how it held the shell.  As I pondered the shell and mud, the sun slid a bit further above the horizon behind me and caused a deep, dark shadow to form behind the clam.  This!  This was the perfect way to spend the morning...on the pier staring at a clamshell...by myself...completely engulfed in tranquility.  Bayou magic!  Nice!

Where Did It Go??

   This time of year finds us either having beautiful sunrises that turn the waters a lovely, shimmery golden hue or fog so thick that you can see nothing but a wall of white.  It is those golden morns that tend to get the most attention, however, especially when critter friends come to visit.  Their presence on the water makes it all the better.  By critter friends, I am referring to the tiny grebes.  Several pied-billed grebes can always be found near the pier during the winter months.  They have become so accustomed to my presence that they make little effort to skitter out of the way but photographing them is an iffy task as the birds dive quite often.

  Yesterday morning, the golden waters were at their best and the tiny grebes bobbed up and down constantly.  I only wanted one photograph...just one!  I got one...just one.  I do have several nice photographs of lovely golden water with ripples where a grebe "used to be".  The pied-billed grebes are a favorite of mine and have been ever since I first saw them.  They are so tiny compared to most of the other waterfowl and have the cutest faces.  

  Golden mornings, grebes, tranquility...it does not get any better.  Life is good, folks, when you can sit back and enjoy a few moments of whatever is around you.  

Those Magical, Purple Skies!

  As is my habit, I was up before the sun even thought about peeping over the pines on the far side of the Bayou. This is "me time".  It is the time when I can collect my thoughts without interruption.  It is the time when I can soak in as much tranquility as the Bayou can muster.  This time is usually spent alone as the menfolk in the household are still fast asleep but, lately, Bat, the Bayou Prince Cat, has been joining me.  He and I sit on the pier and stare eastward at the kaleidoscopic colors of the breaking dawn.  We sit quietly enjoying our togetherness.  We both can "feel" the beauty deep down in our souls.  He is a good cat.

  While this morning offered not a gorgeous sunrise due to the heavy fog, yesterday morning was quite different.  The whole eastern sky was on a temperature scale ranging from the palest of yellows to the deepest of purples.  (Those who crochet will grasp the reference to "temperature scale".  Everyone else...use your imagination.) The purple is what was the most stunning.  At one point the entire sky was purple except for a wee yellow line on the horizon.  This purple is not that rare of an occurrence.  You just have to be there at the right time.  The purple is caused by a temperature change in the upper part of the atmosphere during certain times of the year.  It seems that cooler air reflects the sun's light in different ways and makes the sky appear purple at times. Works for me.  

  Speaking of change, if you are so inclined to believe things, that purple sky can be seen as a harbinger of greater change in life.  A natural phenomenon can bring vast change in the way we see things or how we deal with things.  If a purple sky brings you joy, then sit back and enjoy it for it will be a fleeting thing.  Then ponder if there is anything YOU can do to change what needs to be amended.  Life is good...you may as well let it be magical.

  

Spending Time With The Egrets!

   As usual, I headed to the pier before dawn to get a "catch" of my sanity.  It seems that time spent there watching the sunrise can bring an inner peace that cannot be found elsewhere.  After that half-hour of time contemplating the day behind and the day to come, I am ready to move onward.  The tranquility sets the pace for the day.  

  While the sunrise was gorgeous, the later moments were even more exhilarating.   The sun was well above the horizon when I turned to head back up the pier to the Little Bayou House.   Just as I was reaching the "cut" (a small wallow in the marsh where we shelter the skiff during storms), several snowy egrets decided to come to breakfast.  Thousands of small bull minnows were trapped in the shallows so the birds would eat well.  My walk was instantly halted.  It was time to enjoy nature at its fullest!  Sitting down on the pier, my photo session with the birds started.  As time went by, more egrets joined our party until there were 15 snowies and 1 great egret in the group.  The birds paid no attention to me even though they fully aware of my presence.  They were simply engrossed in feasting on the minnows.  

  Needless to say, my time on the pier went well past the usual time limit and nigh on 50 photographs were taken of the lovely birds.  For the rest of the day, my thoughts were on the unlikely encounter and, even more, unlikely interaction.  It was time well-spent, as far as I am concerned.  

It Is Good For You!

  Not too long ago, I was telling my doctor that I rise before the sun and spend those early moments preparing for the day.  He asked what I meant by "preparing" so I told him that it was not some profound experience but rather a time spent merely contemplating my feelings toward life, in general.  Rising early helps me to deal with whatever is thrown at me without having to do it during a more stressful time of day.  I could sort things out calmly and rationally instead of jumping headlong into problems.  I was surprised when he said that he wished everybody did this.  Huh?  So, I asked why.  His answer made a lot of sense.  "People who rise early to greet the day with joy actually are healthier than those who are jerked begrudgingly out of bed by an alarm."  He went on to explain that this was just his observation and may not be the same with everyone.  "Those who spend a bit of time connecting with themselves tend to have a better grasp on life both physically and emotionally.  Self care is highly important."  Well, now...I knew I was doing this for a good reason!

  I am not even going to pretend that I have all my ducks in a row (or even in the same yard, for that matter) by rising before dawn but I will tell you that it makes me feel so much better.  Even on those occasional sleepless nights, I am out while the stars are still shining and the eastern sky is just beginning to redden.  There is something about the coolness of the air, the sounds of birds awakening and watching the glorious array of colors of the sunrise that brings tranquility to the soul.  

  

Trying To Make Sense Of It All

   When you sit on the pier at the crack of dawn, it gives you plenty of uninterrupted time to ponder things.  Once again, the eastern sky did not disappoint.  Even though the cloud coverage was scanty (before the storms set in for the day), the beauty was there...so was the peace.  That serenity is the main reason for my early rising.  Today, however, the thoughts were scattered about in turmoil.  Overnight, the alarms on my phone kept erupting like a volcano.  Two murders had occurred and the killer was on the run.  A young lady and the policeman coming to her rescue were both senselessly gunned down.  My brain cannot wrap itself around such violence...such stupidity....such hatred.  What has become of the world?  Where has commonsense gone?  Where has decency gone?  

  As I sat there exhausted from the constant blaring alarms and the heartache of what had occurred, I felt highly grateful for my upbringing.   We were taught right.  We were raised to respect life in all forms.  We were taught to be kind, generous and loving.  We were taught to be hardworking.  If we wanted something, we worked to get it.  Nowadays, it appears that these values are nowhere to be found.  The whole world has gone to pot and the powers that be are doing nil to correct it.  In fact, they seem to be encouraging it.  Sad...very, very sad.  Think I will sit and stare at the sunrise a bit longer.  Too bad I cannot share the tranquility with  the world...but it is probably in too much of a rage to even see it.

Nothing Else Is Needed

   Life has been tiring for the past few years.  It seems as soon as one thing is settled, something else is thrown in the works and the turmoil starts again.  That is one good thing about the social distancing of the past couple of years.   I can isolate myself from the busybodies and not feel guilty.  I have come to realize that not everyone who professes to be a friend (or family member) really cares.  There are those who are only out for themselves but will use others in any way possible.  So...I isolated.  So...I continue to isolate.  I had an uncle who pretty much became a hermit (in the middle of the city but still a hermit) and kept from communicating much with those who aggravated him.  The man was obviously a genius!  Perhaps I am on my way to being a hermitess...(is that even a word?)

  Early this morning before the sun peeped over the pines, Bat (the cat) and I took our usual hike about the place.  The rains last night left the air clean and the scent of jasmine laid heavy around us.  He and I wandered the garden paths as the world around us was wakening.  It occurred to me that this life is pretty good.  Not much else is needed.  Not much else is wanted.  Tranquility.

Quirky Sayings and Floral Walls

   Mom used to have some funny little sayings that would fit perfectly for the moment.  I think this is something she must have picked up from her mother since my grandmother did the same thing.  Now, I think it is starting to flare up in me.  As I age, I find myself doing much the same thing even to the point of using their phrases.  What I thought was comical when I was a teen now has become logical.  Weird how our brains work.

  Today, I found myself explaining to Son that I was feeling "do-less".  For those who do not understand, this is when you do not particularly feel bad...you just feel sort of blah...hence, do-less.  My great idea of cutting grass and grinding mulch did not happen.  Instead, I was a typical "little old lady" and puttered around not doing much of anything.  At one point, I was merely wandering aimlessly through the Small Gardens.  It was then that the fence row of jasmine made me think that it would be grand if all walls were built so.  Walls and fences should all smell so delightful and look so pleasant.  Maybe then, people would drop their anger before entering and just enjoy their surroundings.  This old world has become so filled with hate and anger that something needs to be done...and quickly.  Perhaps...build a wall...build a wall or series of walls so people can wander aimlessly just enjoying life.  Not to be hemmed in or blocked out but to invoke curiosity as to what is around the next bend and to ply the senses with wonderful aromas and sights.  Just a thought.  Me?  I became inspired.  I shall build more floral walls.  At least, then, I shall have tranquility.

Quietness

   After a pretty much sleepless night due to the foster kitten, my day started at a little before 4am.  The kitten wanted breakfast and I wanted a cup of coffee.  First things first, though.  The kitten was fed and then, coffee in hand, I headed to the pier.  I had to escape even if for a few moments.  The water brings tranquility.  Once on the pier, it was just as it should be...quiet and still.  Only a few birds were chirping as they awoke and a pair of coons waddled in the marsh making sloshing sounds.  All else was quiet.  

  It is funny how being on the pier puts all things in perspective.  There are no interruptions...no distractions...just the cool breeze and a few clouds.  Later, these would develop into a thunderstorm but, for now, they were just interesting decorations in the sky.   I felt refreshed.  Bayou Therapy...always works.  Time to face the day.

  

The Tranquility Door

   On a whim, I bought some simple, colored cellophane and "stained" the window panes in the front doors.  The large, old french doors each have 15 panes of glass and each of those is slightly different size.  (This is often the case with antique doors as they were usually handmade.)  The "staining" first came into play with one of the Clue Hunts on the Bayou.  The french doors and similar greenhouse doors all received a pattern of colors.  Well, I liked the look so much that I kept it and as the cellophane faded with the sunlight, I simply added more colors until Darling Daughter bought me some actual glass clings. What a difference!  

  Well, the other day, someone mentioned that I should take the stuff down.  "It takes away the view."  No, the view is still there, I just added a bit more interest to the room.  If you wish to see the pier, go outside.  I live here, my fake, stained glass windows make me happy so they stay.  It is simple as that.

  I mentioned this encounter on social media and immediately got responses that echoed my feelings.  It was the consensus that stained glass windows bring calm and tranquility.  To be honest, I did a bit of research and it seems that we are not alone in this feeling.  Several noted resources state that this is one of the reasons that the windows were so popular in ancient churches.  The windows illuminated the inside of the building with ever changing patterns of  color.  The eyes could wander with the colors and patterns and become relaxed so that spirituality was profound.  A feeling of serenity enveloped those who entered.  They immediately "felt" peace which must have meant that God was within the building. 

  I have often thought that I should probably remove the colored cellophane and window clings simply to move on to something else.  Now, I am not so sure.  Perhaps more folks need to be doing this to their homes and businesses.  The world could sure use some tranquility about now.  Peace could go a long ways with our worried minds.