Can there be communication without language? 
Of course. 
Plants may not talk to us directly 
but their colors and shapes trigger an emotional response within us. 
Who hasn’t been cheered by a bright blossom 
or soothed by the cool greenness of tender foliage? 
When I see a fruit tree blossom I feel the promise of something ripe and edible forming in the near future. 
Creation communicates so much to us: the cycles of birth and death.
The concept of growth through something as tiny as a seed. 
Faith that we can survive, even in rocky soil. 
That we can flourish 
by reaching toward the heavens.
Photos © Sondra Sula.
Take a walk with me by reading my daily devotional book, Meditations on Mendocino by Sondra Sula. Available on Amazon in paperback or Kindle versions.
If you’d prefer a daily river walk, Reflections on the Fox River and Beyond by Sondra Sula, might just be the book for you.
Summer is well underway at the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens. Otherworldly nigella, also known as love-in-a-mist, waves wildly at me with its many appendages. It definitely wants to be noticed. Sometimes I feel like I’m flailing my arms about trying to garner God’s attention—I forget that I always have it.
Other flowers take a different approach: drawing me in with texture or delicate patterning. What natural gifts do I have that draw others towards me?
A Matilija poppy is completely open, revealing its center. How often am I able to fully open myself to Spirit, holding nothing back?
I have to crouch down to see a trio of tiny plants, each with distinctively different leaves. But no matter how different they are, all belong to the plant kingdom. How do I reconcile different aspects of myself that may seem contradictory?
Now I have to stand up and step back to witness waves of color.
Beds are bursting with brightness. Do I hide my true colors or let them shine?
The black blotches on the ladybird poppy are what make it distinctive, even though it can appear to be a flaw. Which of my “flaws” are really strengths?
The time has come to leave the gardens, but I make one last stop at the flowering onion. It is almost ready to shed its paper cap, revealing buds on the verge of blossom. Am I ready to bloom?
Sondra Sula's Blog: The Nature of Spirituality 