Breezes gentle fluffy white seeds of cottonwoods looming above the creek bottom engorged by recent rains. Mounds feather the grassy sides of the trail and mask spent dandelions and trefoil clover.

Each seed, if properly banked and nurtured, has the potential to grow to a height of ninety feet and thrive for one hundred years. Cottonwoods only require a constant water source.

In silence I witness this proliferation of fragile beauty in my hand.

Such seeds resemble seminal graces flitting around us, seeking entry within our psyches to enlarge our perceptions of the natural world and to engage our participation in creation, ever fresh and surprising. We can’t help but be filled! We are close to the Source!