Stop and smell the magnolias.

Dear Friends and Lovely People passing through,

Sunday morning in Florider, and the leaves sparkling after the thunda and lightning and rain perform big drama Friday and Saturday yesterday. How the trees and plants and grass love the show! You can see them shimmering with gladness.

I know exactly how they feel.

The very same way when I go pon the road for afternoon walks.

I does feel in love. I want to jump and click me heels.

Up this road, the twenty-foot or mo' tall pine-cone tree wearing a jasmine gown. The vine o' the jasmine weave a wide green skirt and loose bodice and sleeves on the branches o' the pine tree. Thousand o' white-star flowers dot the gown from top to bottom. 

Ow me Lawd, I could just lay meself right there pon de road with delight, stay there and close me eyes and live. 

You would see what I mean if you inhale the perfume from jasmine and magnolia and gardenia. It gon lift you to a space that you never been to before; you ain't need no ticket on a rocket. Trust me when I tell you, you ain't gon need no gee-gaw, designer perfume, dress, handbag, trinket, electronics to lift you up and out o' youself.

Oww, the fabulous things you gon see if you only slow you' pace, oh wow.

Magnolias in almost every yard blooming in the warm sunshine. I never in me whole born-life see flowers so big pon a tree. Like plate. White like the smile in me heart. Every day, I walk up to them and examine they new bloom-freshness, they tender age-ing brown. I does put me face close and inhale lemon and secret blends o' fragrance from the land of exotica. 

And don't forget them flowers in the grass. Not because they small, at you' feet, and don't have perfume. Them is the li'l colours, li'l details we ain't see now, but gon notice if they gone. 

I stop to say hello to them too.

White petals with purple centers, mo' small than pin-head, congosetting...gathering in groups, chatting; bright yellow daisies spreading like carpet; butter-colour flowers with delicate petals; small, hard white knots; lantana in bunches; all o' them is worthy of adoration and gratitude. 

If you's one o' them who walk with speed, I feel sorry for you. Oh, the wonderful things you ain't gon see, and if I tell you slow down to look, you gon think I boring. I might be boring to you, but I gon never be bored.

Next week, I gon share some photos.

Ta-ta for now. I promise Ma we gon sit on the front porch and gyaff...chat.

Have a lovely week, plenty love, neena xx.