Sunday Morning at Hillcrest Cottage

It's a very-unusual-for-an-Arkansas-July 72 degrees this morning. Nearby Sunday bells are calling churchgoers inside. The breeze is refreshing. The neighborhood is quiet. Occasionally, a hummingbird will zip past or the tiny red house wren will shyly drink from my birdbath. Mac the Labradoodle naps contentedly on the cool porch floor.

It's another Sunday in Hillcrest. I enjoy hearing the happy, small children squeals which float down Holly Street toward my porch. On a mornings like this, seems like everyone's drinking coffee on their porches, too. Sometimes a neighbor might lazily play their guitar.

Lots of joggers and walkers and all types of dogs have passed in front of my garden's brown picket fence. On this cool morning it was good to cut away the dead branches from my Black-Eyed Susans and Purple Coneflowers.

The day is young, and hope is high. Hope that I will accomplish something significant, love someone well, laugh at a funny story, speak a kind word, have discipline in what I eat, and be a healthy branch attached to the vine.

As I cleaned away the dead flowers in my own garden, I was encouraged to stay connected so I, too, can bloom. It is a beautiful Sunday morning at Hillcrest Cottage, and these words whispered to me:

I am the vine, you are the branches: he who abides in Me, and I in him, he bears much fruit; for apart from Me you can do nothing.