taking it in

“I stand at the window looking out, trying to remember the truths that nature always brings home. That what lies before me is not all there is. That time is ever passing, and not only when I notice. That strife and pain are no more unexpected than pleasure and joy. That merely by breathing I belong to the eternal.”

― Margaret Renkl, The Comfort of Crows

tomatoes, in the kitchen window

I pay attention while putting the garden to rest, taking in the smell of the tomato leaves and wondering why no-one has ever captured the smell in a bottle. I read where you can put a few leaves in a pot of marina simmering on your stove, and think I might try that with this last harvest. I consider how little of life I truly grasp, and how limited I truly am when it comes to understanding the feelings and thoughts of others. I find myself more of an observer rather than a cohort in conversations lately, holding back my thoughts and opinions grasping that what lies before me is not all there is, and pushing myself to take more of life in.

***

who am I?

"The hardest challenge is to be yourself in a world where everyone is trying to make you be somebody else."

- e. e. cummings

the last rose

I am ready to put the gardens to bed. Ready to wake up to the sound of rain and a chill in the air. I buy some new pants and a couple new t-shirts, and wash our coats and down vests so they are ready for us when we need them. I think of ways to slow down, cut down on outside influences and seek out joy in unexpected places.

This is the last rose of the season, caught in the rain, and so beautiful.

Courtney’s Dahlias

"My advice to the women of America is to raise more hell and fewer dahlias."
- William Allen White

Courtney’s Dahlias

Not only did she marry my son 15 years ago, but she also plants more dahlias every spring.
She is a smart woman.

sunday morning at the feeder

“There is an unreasonable joy to be had from the observation of small birds going about their bright, oblivious business”

― Grant Hutchison

the last few days I have lived with that lump in my throat 
you know the one . . .
bouncing between melancholy sadness and acute gratitude for all that fills my life, 
I allow all of it to rise to the surface and have its say, 
trying not to focus too hard on the why of it all . . . 
for regret and hindsight are robbers of joy and wisdom, 
and I see all to clearly who the winners here need to be 

***