“The answer is that we are not helpless in the face of our first impressions. They may bubble up from the unconscious – from behind a locked door inside of our brain – but just because something is outside of awareness doesn’t mean it’s outside of control.”
Malcolm Gladwell, Blink: The Power of Thinking Without Thinking
Her spine was curved as a broken tree trunk. Face weathered and her mouth over large for her face and longed for the filling of teeth. Her river-silver hair sat in odd clumps on her head. I marvelled at her ugliness. It was odd but she actually contained her own kind of beauty. She sank to her knees next to a flower bed as she reached out a gnarled hand and pulled at the weeds embedded in front of her.
I regularly passed this lady working in her garden. The seasons changed and so did her garden. Once I passed her home and I saw that she had a gardener with her.
“Ah, I’m glad to see that today you have some help. What on earth are you planting?” There were mounds of earth everywhere.
The lady gave a chuckle. “Wait and see!” She had a low, deep voice. “In summer you’ll get a lovely surprise.”
We smiled at each other and I moved on. A couple of months later, I was returning from a friend’s home and I took the road leading past her house. My little old lady was there filling her bird bath. What a sight met my eyes! I gave a gasp of unadulterated delight. Purple-blue Irises crowded the garden surrounding her. They were everywhere. An amused chuckle accompanied those blue eyes as the woman waved me forward.
“Would you like to take a look? Come!” She held out her hand and I took her arm as I entered into her garden. It was a mass of bruised purple blooms. The tall, beautiful iris, named after the Greek goddess who rode rainbows, gently moved in the breeze. A yellow butterfly lazily flitted amongst the petals. “I told you that in summer you would get a surprise,” she said laughing softly. “I love my garden. Each day I am presented with a different surprise. It might be a butterfly, a humming bird, a gardenia…who knows?” The blue eyes twinkled at me from that beautiful face.
I was reminded that day never to judge by first impressions. They can be so misleading. At the moment, her garden is overflowing with daffodils and tulips. And a lovely little old woman with piercing blue eyes…..
What an inspirational story to wake up to. Thank you, Gaynor!
Big smile – thank you for reading my blog, Caroline!
With a smile I kiss your eyes
Gaynor
My mother’s name was Iris….now I know why I love rainbows. Thanks for sharing your wonderful writing with us………
I am also mad about rainbows, Gill! I am so glad you are enjoying my writing.
With a soft smile I kiss your eyes
Gaynor
A beautiful moving story. I can’t help wondering how many people passed the home of the little old lady and never even looked her way, let alone would have thought to greet her. I know your interaction with her and your beautiful smile and friendliness, would have made her day. Thank you for being the caring, special person you are Gaynor. Love.
It was her garden that first grabbed my attention, Romary, and then her. I am so glad I did speak. There was a lesson to be learned!
Have a good Sundat, Angel. With a smile I kiss your eyes
Gaynor
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