“One of the tasks of true friendship is to listen compassionately and creatively to the hidden silences. Often secrets are not revealed in words, they lie concealed in the silence between the words or in the depth of what is unsayable between two people. In modern life there is an immense rush to expression. Sometimes the quality of what is expressed is superficial and immensely repetitive. A greater tolerance of silence is desirable, that fecund silence, which is the source of our most resonant language. The depth and substance of a friendship mirrors itself in the quality and shelter of the silence between two people.”
— Anam Cara by John O’Donohue, p. 112
Do you know this hill
we traveled up together
three seasons ago?
It still holds our lives.
It still holds our footsteps –
and baskets of cherries.
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?
I see you there
walking behind me
as if you’d like to disappear
into the white mist with your black dog.
Let it swallow you up:
all your beautiful long legs,
curly hair covering
deep-seeing eyes —
if you must.
But, please, know this:
I will keep walking with you.
I will keep walking
right on through
the mistakes I have made
over the past 13 years,
since I carried you inside
knowing so little
about who you were
and who I would need to become
to be your mother.
my dear child,
I love you like the wind
on a soft summer morning
resting on the edges
of the orchard,
ready to blow away
the thick air
I see you
in the morning
Mothering these two beautiful children, ten years apart in age, is one of my greatest challenges and also one of my greatest joys. The connection between them is a tremendous gift. He looks up to her with such unconditional affection and awe. She nurtures him with such adoration. Quite often these days, she is her most expressive self with him.
And he is getting quite an education from her. Today I asked if he wanted to look for tadpoles when we went down to the beach. He looked up at me and said, in his most matter-a-fact way, “We can’t go into their habitat.”
Now I wonder where my 2-year-old learned that?
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.
The girls asked to bring home a flat of strawberries to freeze for the winter. I hesitated, knowing that the kitchen was deconstructed for cleaning, but eventually I said yes. Recognizing that I was overwhelmed in the kitchen, they sat out on the porch and did everything themselves with a little help from Wallace.
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.
Sometimes I think that the purpose of photography is to hide the pain behind beautiful moments captured in still.