And here, what sight, the ground is still white. But the song of the house finch fills the air. The weather man calls for warmer weather. The smell of skunk is on the breeze. Ah, sweet spring cannot be far away.
Ah, indeed, Chuck. The smell of skunk in the air. I find it not unpleasant if the source is far enough away!
God's creations are beautiful, Andrea.
Lin, I am enjoying it. Somehow in my feeble human imagination, I think heaven will smell like orange blossoms. (Actually it will be so far beyond our imagination that we can't possibly ideate the concept of heaven.)
The grass withers, the flower fades: but the word of our God s
hall stand for ever.--Isaiah 40:8 
4 comments:
And here, what sight, the ground is still white. But the song of the house finch fills the air. The weather man calls for warmer weather. The smell of skunk is on the breeze. Ah, sweet spring cannot be far away.
Beautiful!!
Oh, I wish I could smell it! Enjoy it for me, will you?
Ah, indeed, Chuck. The smell of skunk in the air. I find it not unpleasant if the source is far enough away!
God's creations are beautiful, Andrea.
Lin, I am enjoying it. Somehow in my feeble human imagination, I think heaven will smell like orange blossoms. (Actually it will be so far beyond our imagination that we can't possibly ideate the concept of heaven.)
Post a Comment