As soon as I had finished raking up these jacaranda flowers, I felt some kind of sadness.
Every morning I look out the kitchen window holding my first coffee of the day, and gaze out to the carpet of purple. There's a branch that taps at the window, abundant with flowers, tap-tap-tap, a gentle reminder that spring is here, but not for long.
The purple against the bright green of the lawn. The yellow of the hibiscus that's flowers drop before they've fully unfurled. When I find those flowers I wonder what happened to them, though they're still pretty as yellow petal-balls whose secrets will never spill into the world.
Each time I walked out the door I could smell the sweet decay of the flowers, and it took me back to childhood. There's something nice about it returning back to the earth, comforting.
Spring is almost done.