I was marveling at short-sleeves and that grassy smell in the cool air this morning as I ran out to open the garden gate for the day, and then (squeaky brakes and quick reverse), there she was, open and exuberant in the morning sunshine.
So that's what's been happening for weeks inside that tight, fat chrysalis of a pod--- wings have been growing.
Somehow I want to pull a metaphor out of that about worrying, something about how worrying about the future inside this cute little pod of a flat is not doing as much good, and how the change will happen without me fussing. But since I don't know how to pull that one off, let's stick with the flower. I was waiting and waiting for it to burst open, and even with my anticipation (I'm notorious for trying not to get my hopes up to be disappointed), it exceeded my hopes. I wish I knew its name. It's lovely, a gift.