Gracious Me: My Morning

I threw on some clothes in the late morning and ventured out into the garden. The freshness enveloped me as I opened the door, bible in hand, to read outside. In the still shady pathway the dew felt good on my bare feet. Picking my way through the rocks and weeds I situated myself on a rickety old bench that always threatens to collapse (but never does). I sat motionless, soaking up the sun like a dry sponge placed under a faucet.
An orchestra of sounds rang in my ears; a thousand bees circled me, restlessly alighting on every flower in sight. There was gentle rustlings from the ground, as seemingly invisible creatures brushed along the plant stalks and dry leaves. The katydids clicked like castenettes on a Spanish dancer, as they whisked over my head. Bird songs from all directions meshed themselves together before reaching my ears, creating a sporadic yet harmonious melody.
But better then these sounds, was the tangle of sunshine at my feet. The orange poppies rose from the gravel walkway in hosts, tumbling over each other in their excited clamor towards the sun, swaying in the slightest breeze and nudging others to do the same. Stretching tall in solitary clumps grew yellow bursts of flowers that royally oversaw the surrounding blooms. And like tiny reflections of all this glory, baby white blossoms climbed up their own stalk like children sitting on a ladder, and brought a cheery and lighthearted variance in hue.
These colors closed me in on every side as I settled onto the old bench, pondering the words of Paul to the Ephesians.

Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing in Christ. V3

Does that include flowers and bees?

Vs 12 ...for the praise of his glory...
Vs 14 ...to the praise of his glory...

Now... I know that he was referring to people in this, but I began to isolate those words and think to myself; if weeds and poppies can be to the praise of his glory by sedentarily sitting in the gravel... what is keeping us from consistently being the same? I don't have the answer.

Enjoy my pictures, interspersed with lyrics.
(All pictures taken by myself)

I look out the window, the birds are composing... Not a note is out of tune or out of place.

I look at the meadow and stare at the flowers; better dressed than any girl on her wedding day...
~your love is strong - jon foreman~

I am stained with dirt, prone to depravity... but a certain sign of grace is this; from the broken earth flowers come up, pushing through the dirt...
~wholly yours - david crowder band~

Creation's revealing Your majesty, from the colors of fall to the fragrance of spring... Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim; You are amazing God!
~indescribable - chris tomlin~