Stopping to smell the roses

I generally walk at a pretty good clip— headphones on, eyes straight ahead.

Out here in grandma-land, though, I move a little slower and, because I’m often accompanied by a rambunctious rescue dog and/or wearing a tiny baby strapped to my chest, I don’t use headphones.

As a result, I notice a lot more. I literally stop to smell the roses while Benny the Wonder Dog helpfully fertilizes them.

West Coast roses carry themselves a little more dramatically than their friends in other parts of the country. They hold their big heads high, bow a little as we fans approach and drape themselves in a stunning array of colors.

Other flowers out here are equally bold. A gorgeous tree dropped one of its giant flowers on my head and I thanked it for the gift.

I learned the other stunning trees I’ve been seeing all over the neighborhood are called jacaranda and when their purple flowers drop it looks like the whole place has been carpeted in royal silks.

(Apparently they’re kind of a mess to clean up after they drop, but sometimes beautiful things require a bit more effort.)

In a world of necessary busyness and unfortunate stress, it’s really nice to slow down a bit and enjoy the view.

I’m glad for the babies and dogs in my life that remind me to do that.