The day begins in a hectic fashion, more in my heart than anywhere else. Though I readily admit that pushing a child into the school day—I said put your pants on!—can be a lesson in patience. I feel the stress of the coming move acutely and keep trying to remember that God doesn’t want me to worry. Why do I forget that so easily? It’s all in his hands. Remember, remember, remember.

I grab my camera and greet the sunlit roses, orange with blushes of pink. Some are bright in the morning light, others tucked back deep in shadow. The clematis likes to use them as a trellis. After attempting to train them elsewhere, I let the flowers intermingle and make friends. A few minutes of fresh air, practicing my craft gives me years of life. The stress begins to dissipate and I recall who I am and, more importantly, Who has created me.

Today is a day for beauty, a day for praise. There’s nothing to fear. And a lot to remember.

Our world changed fast in Lincoln this spring. We went from mild winter weather to summer-like temps overnight and the grass and trees and flowers bloomed really quickly.

I don’t want to take this beauty for granted though. I want to remember that just a few short weeks ago it looked like someone had sucked all the color out of our neighborhood, and every neighborhood. I’d be driving around town looking at houses for sale and feeling absolutely uninspired as I looked at bare trees and shrubs and yellowed grass. Bo-ring. But now, everything is alive and begging to be enjoyed. The sun is warm, less summer-like than before actually, and we can play in the park in short sleeves. We sit on the porch to eat dinner and we bend in the grass to pick weeds from the garden. We see the little blue flowers that spill over walls and sidewalks and admire the way the branches are layered and lovely on the burning bushes out front.

It’s the best free therapy on the planet, this world of green, growing things. And I’m thoroughly enjoying it.

I don’t know who is responsible for planting red, purple and yellow tulip bulbs in this garden, but thank you, thank you, thank you! They brighten up one small corner of my neighborhood in the loveliest of ways.

The Master Artist outdid himself this spring. Or maybe he does it every spring and I’m just particularly grateful in this moment. Whichever the case, I find myself praising God for his beautiful creation frequently. I’m thankful for eyes to see and the artistic inclination to capture the image forever.

As much as I’ve adored Canon over the years, I’m turning Nikon. It’s not hard to love Nikon when I’m shooting with a fabulous new-to-me Nikon D2x. The sharpness and clarity of the images pleases me to no end. It makes shooting springy pics like hostas rising from the soil and mulch that much more enjoyable.

See that guy working in the yard? Yeah, he’s mine. Te amo, Jeremy Tredway!

Today was a fabulous Saturday of sunshine and fresh air and good old-fashioned family togetherness. It felt like everything was crying out with thankfulness that God created them—the brilliant and teeny yellow daffodils, the redbud and plum trees that are beginning to bloom, the grass that’s turning bright green, and of course, us, the humans who get to luxuriate in such grandeur.

A: Plastic tulips, of course!

Jeremy and I took a walk during his lunch break last week on what had to be the warmest winter day in Nebraska ever. It was gorgeous outside. Jeremy spotted some blooms in on a corner lot and we had to investigate what kind of plant was blooming at this time of year. Hah! So now I’m both tickled and perplexed by the notion of a plastic plant gardener.

…when it kind of looks like summer. But I know so many of you love fall when it gets chilly and rainy. At any rate, fall is here to stay, and this little yellow leaf is a sign of things to come.