From Mary Oliver's book, Blue Iris, comes this reflection, perfect for our weekend chapel flower arrangers:
Freshen the Flowers, She Said
So I put them in the sink, for the cool porcelain
was tender,
and took out the tattered and cut each stem
on a slant,
trimmed the black and raggy leaves, and set them all--
roses, delphiniums, daisies, iris, lilies,
and more whose names I don't know, in bright new water--
gave them
a bounce upward at the end to let them take
their own choice of position, the wheels, the spurs,
the little sheds of the buds. It took, to do this,
perhaps fifteen minutes.
Fifteen minutes of music
with nothing playing.
Another blessing of every weekend, maximized in summer, is the arrival of guests. Here, exploring our grounds on her very first visit to Mount St. Benedict, is the granddaughter of one of our oblates, herself a frequent visitor. Welcome to the Mount, Abbey.
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