THE BEAUTIFUL EYE
An enchanted hour was filched from the hereafter and tossed into the lap of the present, as a foretaste of what is to come . . A mystic world, into which we step as soon as we cross the threshold of the porch. ( Ethelind Fearon)
It rained through the night. A soft, gentle rain that became a lullaby singing one to sleep. A rain that turned an ordinary morning into one filled with grace and beauty.
This was the enchanted hour. The past is now the present. A year ago I had planted this Winter Star Camellia . And in the early morning the delicate, paper thin, almost translucent flower began to bloom. It is these moments that your heart and soul fill with happiness. You smile and caress the delicate petals. Drunk with their exquisite beauty.
Then with a sigh a few petals fall. Theirs is a short lived beauty – making them all the more precious. I revel in the contrast of the spent petals resting on the old wooden table. They will not be tidied and swept away for they belong to this moment of enchantment.
(Ethelind Fearon was born in 1898 in Essex England. Her passion was writing and gardening (she was a gardener to H.G. Wells) .