Little house light with Grandmommy.
Golf lesson with Grandfather.
Wallace was captivated.
Ellen always finds the flowers.
More antics with Uncle Chris.
And Julien, contemplating amidst all the cousin chaos.
What you don’t see is how completely overwhelmed I am feeling on this night.
Photography is good at hiding as well as revealing.
All nine cousins.
Two boys in a tiny tent.
Acro Yoga with Uncle James.
What I can’t capture is the smell of this summer night.
And the sound of the wind in the aspen trees.
These three, helping me.
Bringing the garlic in again.
Another nine-month season of growing,
coming full circle.
Oh, I have so many thoughts about growing garlic. But this year, garlic speaks to me of forgiveness.
Taking a single clove from last year’s
soil and pushing it into the ground
just before winter
and hoping it will grow it into a new, full head –
come what may.
Through autumn leaves falling,
and snow storms,
and spring cold,
it grows silently
or maybe sits and waits
offering at last
in deep summer,
the smell of forgiveness.
I have a tremendous amount to say about flowers in July – and most of it comes out in the form of poetry and photographs.
this day selling flowers at the art fair
thanks to Grandmommy
because my head was too full of house project lists to think about
but flowers –
what could be more important than flowers?
See the sunshine
captured within these glorious petals?
they will dry out
with all their goodness preserved —
and we will soak them in sweet oil, for weeks,
and squeeze out the golden essence
and combine it with beeswax
and pour it into a beautiful little jar
And you will carry it
in your pocket
all winter long,
dreaming of sunshine
as you smooth summer into your skin.
I’m saving them for you.
because they are my givingness:
and having all I need.
Remember the wild rosebush?
when friends from 20 years ago meet again
and our tiny humans make friends for the first time,
it is the sweetest of sweet.
Theo boy is living a dog’s life over here. And growing so fast! He has tripled in size since we brought him home two months ago. The girls have been diligently training, walking, washing, brushing, giving swimming lessons . . . and generally taking Theo out to explore the world. I know I’ve said this before, probably a dozen times, but I just love to watch them nurture their pup.
I’m cleaning out a
cupboard of watercolors
and art supplies
and nature journals
and clay, and I am cleaning
but this is what I end up doing
laying out the bits and pieces
of a homeschool year
as a sort of still life
on the kitchen table,
and admiring all the little
reminders of a creative life
in the this home
filled with birdsong
It is a glorious morning at the flower farm, and the girls are gathering first-day-of-summer blooms.
Wallace is content playing with the hose.
I am taking deep breaths, soaking in the beauty of Carolyn’s gardens overlooking the glorious lake.
This is what the “lawn” looks like after six weeks away.
And the garden is a jungle. But at least there is kale growing in the jungle. And lots of garlic. Oh, and volunteer plants I would have weeded out weeks ago. How I love the volunteers. And so they get to stay. Nasturtiums in the garlic beds. Cosmos in the onions. Calendula everywhere. Hundreds of borage plants for the bees.
The garden is wild. The children have not brushed their hair in days. The puppy is happy.
The chickens are settling back in.
And sometimes Amabel and I spend the morning collecting beautiful bits of plants and arranging them just so, creating this lovely, yet rather pointless assortment . . . instead of weeding, but . . . it’s lovely here, in the jungle, isn’t it?