One can hardly walk down the streets of our neighborhood without drawing in the heady fragrance of Spring’s white orange blossom’s dripping from the heavy laden trees. The scent tantalizes one’s senses like warm maple syrup poured atop pancakes.
The aroma drifting in through our patio door beckons me to put aside my tasks, step into our garden, and drink in the beauty before my eyes. Standing next to our orange tree, I am captivated by the clusters of blossoms hanging above each leaf. Clusters holding the promise of next season’s fruit.
A honeybee buzzes around me to suck the sweet nectar from a brilliant white flower. Surprisingly, I am unafraid as I watch this miracle of creation play out before me. I stand in awe. The beauty, the fragrance, the promise of harvest, the bee and the blossom following its designed purpose.
As I step away, my heart envisions wisps of fragrant smoke curling up towards heaven. A sacrifice of praise from the creation to its Creator.
“All the earth bows down to you; they sing praise to you, they sing praise to your name.” Psalm 66 NIV