I wander outside my garage and greet the most glorious scent of spring. My own orange blossom serenade.
My nose twitches from the divine fragrance whiffing through the air; my eyes drawn toward the white petals juxtaposed against the glossy newborn leaves of the citrus tree. How heavenly.
I cut a branch of this aromatic wonder and bring it inside. Now I’m dreaming oriental thoughts: cherry blossoms and teahouses, Memoirs of a Geisha, pagodas, China’s Great Wall and Forbidden City. How I long to see these places.
In a few weeks, I’ll visit Atlanta where I have tickets to view a traveling exhibit of terracotta warriors from Xian. Guess that will have to do.