The Garden, In August

228 :: Marigolds

Wer seines Lebens viele Widersinne

She who reconciles the ill-matched threads
of her life, and weaves them gratefully
into a single cloth—
it’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hall
and clears it for a different celebration

where the one guest is you.
In the softness of evening
it’s you she receives.

You are the partner of her loneliness,
the unspeaking center of her monologues.
With each disclosure you encompass more
and she stretches beyond what limits her,
to hold you.

Rilke’s Book of Hours Translated by Joanna Macy

228 :: Beauty Yellow Nasturtiums

228 :: Green Tomatoes

228 :: Pumpkins

Sometimes I just wander around in the garden and marvel. And sometimes we bring some of what is outside, inside. And wonder.

227 :: Flower Palette

233 :: Her Herbs

Stolen Roses

195 :: Stolen Roses

Not all, but a few
were stolen.

As I pulled the car over
onto the side of the road
and jumped out
my clippers in hand,

having watched this stretch of hillside for weeks,
waiting
for the pink wild roses
to bloom in their close-to-the-ground,
almost secret sprawl.

Roses stolen,
thorns and all
embedded in my finger tips,
a blood red effort I will remember
each time we drive past
next winter
in white.

Nature Journals

175 :: Nature Journals

Three years ago, the girls and I started nature journaling. What this looks like, for us, is gathering natural objects from our garden and walks; laying them all out over the table; and sketching and watercolor painting in our journals. We also write the names of plants and creatures and other items in French when we are inspired. Nature journaling is definitely about the process for us. We did it regularly for about two years and then got out of practice. Today we gathered around the table again, and I was so happy . . . even when Wallace started painting blue stripes all over his arms. I hope we will make space to nature journal all summer and into the fall. There’s nothing quite like the meditative space it inspires.

Peonies

180 :: Perfect Peonies

We woke up to rain and fog and went on a little adventure to Carolyn’s cut flower farm, to pick some of her spectacular peonies.

Late, full blooms. Marshmallow blossoms.  Chubby toddler fists.  Summer happiness.

Poppy Muse

174 :: Poppies

My poppy muse has appeared,
June evenings
her dwelling place.

Late to bloom,
long to stay
with petals open
and falling
into tomorrow together.

June Light

169 :: Bird Head

151 :: Chick Nursery

168 :: O Dandelion

164 :: Rhubarb

Even in the fullness of these days,
especially in the fullness of these days,
I seek out my desk.

167 :: June Desk

I seek out my desk and
I slip away to catch the light.

166 :: Conversation

I turn around and find it, everywhere.
Even when the day is overcast,
the clouds are heavy,

161 :: Spirea

my pants soaked from the long grasses,
my boots like puddles inside –

light like an abundant secret
in June.

162 :: Beginnings