When I walk on a sunlit day, I sense God smiling down in sunshine.

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, “The earth laughs in flowers.”

Over the past weeks while witnessing the sedums in bloom, I’ve seen the earth cracking up and beaming back a thanks to above.

The smiling down is more than a singular sunbeam breaking through a cloudy sky, a ray illuminating one target in the shadows. It is a spread of light freely scattered to all, bestowing grace.

The smiling up is more than a singular sedum opening in a show of glory. It is a chorus of hearts spread open, spilling gratitude.

Like a tiny raindrop that falls into the ocean and equally contributes to the sun glitter that shimmers when light reflects on the water, each little sedum stands at attention and offers itself to a collective brilliance.

Yes! The sedums are back in bloom!

And, the display is dazzling!

The first year of this blog I wrote a weekly series of stories following the sedum progression — from penny thickness sprouts…

to swollen stems with bursts of yellow flowers.

By the end of the series my kids called me the “crazy sedum lady” and I found the joy in following the refrains of nature to find comfort along life’s journey.

It was a spring filled with the highs of celebrating our daughter’s college graduation and the lowest lows of enduring the pain when a ranch fire severely burned our son Jimmy. We will never forget the powerful support from readers, friends, and family. His full healing is a blessing.

That spring was also a time for remembering. The final sedum posting shared the story of transplanting sedums to “Dad’s Cactus Ridge,” a hilltop named for my father, now smattered with sedums, a testimony to a continuing journey.

If you are interested in seeing sedums from sprout to bloom, here is a convenient list of links to the posts in the series.

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: March 4, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: March 11, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: March 18, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: March 25, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: April 1, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: April 8, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: April 15, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch at the Lost Madrone Ranch: April 29, 2017

Saturday Sedum Watch: That Was Unexpected

Saturday Sedum Watch: Celebrating Black and Gold – Alexandra’s Graduation!

Saturday Sedum Watch: The Final Week

Feeding Chickens

Today’s post won’t recap each phase of this petite plant, but will share a few scenes from the sedums blooming this year.

The sedums that grow wild at the ranch are Sedum nuttallianum.

They are a succulent classified in the family Crassulaceae, also referred to as “stonecrop.”

I love this fitting family name for a tiny plant that grows among the rocky tops of the Texas Hill Country.

At the Lost Madrone Ranch, sedums grow on several hilltops, and my favorite is the patch just outside my bedroom window.

With the recent run of rainy days, the saturated land saturated the color in my photos — no photo editing needed to enhance the yellows and greens and yellow-greens.

One morning a brief sprinkle laid a layer of water droplets on the sedums.

It was enchanting, as if the sedums were encapsulated by a spell of water.

Similarly spellbinding, water settled on the silken strands of a spiders web that stretched over a group of sedums, and like a magnifying glass, the curves of each droplet reflected the details of the sedums.

I wasn’t sure if I was more captivated by the tiny worlds inside each drop of water

or the intertwined spider silk and how the surface tension of the webbing propels the droplets to stretch and coalesce into elaborate shapes.

Studying sedums calls for looking closer, and a surprise awaits with every look.

When shooting this photo of a clump of sedums growing from the limestone rock,

without warning the view changed.

Can you find the difference in the picture below from the picture above?

Look closer!

Like in life, sometimes in looking close you miss the surrounding big picture, but other times the closer examination brings to light the larger view.

One evening while walking along the sedum scatterings off our front porch,

an electric-white strip of light on the horizon caught my eye.

I walked toward the edge of the hill for an unobstructed view.

Across the entire western horizon was a band of jarring white, like that of a camera flash or a lightning bolt. And yet, unlike a camera flash or lightning bolt, the light did not shock and suddenly disappear but hung there, still, like an invitation waiting for a response.

It was blazing but did not seem hot or burned into the sky. Instead it appeared cool and serene, like a cutout made to reveal.

I stood on the hill and stared and thought about the invitation.

I imagined the steel blue sky lifting from the horizon, offering a peek through the cutout, spilling that a secret lies farther than we can see.

While the blinding light prevented the full telling, the cutout confirmed the forever beyond.

Faith finishes the telling.

My eyes adjusted to the blackening sky, too dim for my hand-held camera to capture, and I watched the band of light shrink into the darkness.

All was clear.

 

It always surprises me how a pop of yellow sedums can direct my eye and steer my thinking.

They are a happy spot in the scenery.

Does anyone recognize this spooky tree from the post Have a Spooky Halloween?

The landscape is more delightful with spots of sedums in the setting, and the tree seems to be cheering in celebration instead of stretching to scare.

I am thrilled that when looking across the landscape from “Dad’s Cactus Ridge” patches of sedums are along the hilltop.

The posting Feeding Chickens tells the story of how “Dad’s Cactus Ridge” got its name. It is among my favorite posts — not just because it was finally the conclusion of the sedum series, Ha ha — but because it shares about the ranch, it shares about my family, it shares about my father and his influence, and it speaks to my wrestling with how I can be a light and serve in my world.

How can I be a bright spot that makes the world more beautiful? These are questions I still ask. What else? What next? Do you wrestle with this too? I invite you to read or re-read Feeding Chickens.

Dad’s cactus from the story died several years ago, but the spines are still hanging together and sedums are sprouting around it.

As the story tells, the ridge is lovely without sedums but a bit brighter with hints of yellow.

I look forward to future springs when sedums carpet the limestone outcroppings and Dad’s ridge is resplendent, as he was.

The sedums scattered on “Dad’s Cactus Ridge” were transplanted from a back corner of the property.

The area is particularly rocky and yet sedums sprawl among the tousled stones.

They spread without disruption beyond the barbed wire,

just as the fields of Hymenoxys flowers ignore the property line fence.

Like love that knows no bounds.

Nature is not a silent teacher.

If we pay attention, she is always proclaiming.

I lifted thousands of sedums from this back corner to spread to Dad’s Cactus Ridge. Two years later, there is no trace of the thousand missing.

The sedums here are prolific, reminding me of the abundance that comes from generosity.

Giving cheerfully, sowing generously, scattering and yet increasing.

This past April, my cousins visited the ranch and packed their bags home with lace cactus and sedum buds. In the weeks following their return, we extended the fun of being together by texting pictures of their blooming sedums.

Thanks Amy, Holly, Linda, Laurie and Tim for the great visit!

I loved seeing your sedums, a chorus all the way from Tennessee.

The sedum show is nearly over for this year but I’ll hold on to the inspiration.

To be like the single raindrop that contributes to the sun glitter, part of the chorus, a bright spot beaming thanks.

Thanks for reading Take Comfort.