One Good Thing

The stripes of late spring

The last two weeks have been bonkers:

The lengthening days always seem to fill with travel, work, and complicated plans.

But I took some time this week to revel in some of my favorite sights.

Let’s call it:

The geometry of June.

Where I live, the world continues to wake up from a very long winter. Purple lupine and wild phlox (we call these flowers Dames Rocket) crowd my garden in late May and Early June.

I love these first pastel glimpses of color, but for some reason, it is the ever-changing geometry of the fields that always makes me smile.

The hay is lined up and ready for baling after the first early cutting. Stripes!

The corn has sprouted and is starting to grow.

This:

{May 12}

Turns into this:

{The same field, last week}

Which becomes this:

{The same field, last August}

In June, you can see how the rows curve along with the shape of the land.

Every day is different during this season — when everything is green and growing.

I love watching the world become fully-awake in June. For me, my own garden is blooming with metaphor. Something about digging through the ever-changing clusters of perennials always makes me think about how this contact with growing things contains lessons for me.

Yanking out the persistent and invasive Bishops Weed that grows between and through the flowers always brings to mind how much of what’s important lies below the surface.

This weed grows on tangles of stretchy roots that snap off when you try to pull them up, enabling the plant to simply sprout again. It always reminds me of the ties that bind my family together. ( So stretchy! So hard to destroy!!)

Mainly, this rapidly-changing landscape brings to mind how its impermanence teaches me to look carefully and closely. My walks and drives through the countryside remind me that — like the corn — I must also grow and change.

{I AM the Lupine Lady}

Wake up! …

I tell myself. And then … slow down.

This week — I hope you feel yourself growing.

Love,

Amy