So I wake from that, and I'm feeling a little rattled, a little hopeless. And then I step outside.
There's an off-shore breeze blowing today. The sky is flawlessly blue, utterly untrammelled by even the hint of a cloud. The surf is high and roaring - each white-capped wave a surging lioness trying to leap higher than each of her predecessors. The wind carries the scent of the sea to me, briny and peaceful and alluring. Every flower imaginable is in bloom - the roses, the hibiscus, the honeysuckle, the birds-of-paradise. Flowers I can't name but I know by scent, intimately, like the perfume of a lover, long-gone. The jacarandas are starting to brim over with brilliant purple flowers, and the bouganvillea is in full scarlet bloom.
This splendor, this glory, this impossibly perfect beauty is a balm to any woes.
