The Scent of a City

The pruning hook was once a sword, a weapon of not so mass destruction, and has fallen on hard times.  Vineyards, fruit trees, berry bushes and tomatoes still benefit from pruning.  The yellow fields of mustard and canola bloom without a single cut.  Children are no longer aligned with nudges and the unbridled life seems rampant.  A few steps into the Dom Cathedral in Cologne and I knew this was not an encounter with a new perfume.  On the plaza pedlars of 4711 were wafting phrases to some highly scented heaven and inside some 800 years of history was stacked one stone at a time reaching for connection.

There is an unholy silence on entering a Cathedral, however the whimsical chalice on the street and the refreshed melodies piped into vaulted space remind one that like the Cathedral. The church will evolve, change, update language and custom and welcome all to communion with the almighty whether as tourist, saint or shunned.

The pruning shears reminded me of the hours this King spent pulling weeds so small plants could mature.  Patience, waiting, weathering weather and infestations yet, always ruling each plant with a nudge and a wink.


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