Tuesday, March 1, 2011

Cranberries, Rain Drops, Butterflies and Abigail Christie St. John

Cranberries. No Strawberries… and lavender… Fresh mint and rosemary. Abigail woke up surrounded by the satisfying scents of a warm summer day full of life and possibilities. Her bed was comfortable. More comfortable than usual. The blankets and sheets had wrapped around her like the most brilliant cocoon, so much so that Abigail basked in them for a few minutes before she unrolled herself and floated out into the morning. She opened the curtains to find the sun shining after a storm filled night. Rain drops rested delicately where they’d landed on the leaves and flowers outside. Even butterflies were flittering about. It was clean and all so delicious to Abigail’s state of mind… or perhaps, “state of heart” would be the better way to describe it. As she danced from one room to the next drinking her tea, choosing her clothes and twirling her hair, Abigail had the sense that everything around her had changed. It was all for the better somehow. All for the good. You see, Abigail knew, but did not necessarily realize that nothing around her had changed. Nothing at all. Not in the least. Nothing, but Abigail. Because it had happened… again… Abigail Christie St. John was in love… Cranberries, Rain Drops, Butterflies and Abigail Christie St. John awgryphon© photography courtesy of visualizeus©

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