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

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.

Nearing Spring

73 :: Spoon Shovel

watching him work with a spoon
in the emerging mud

snow piles
melting down
layers of ice

ice once so hard,
impossible to break through.

Remember the morning we couldn’t leave,
couldn’t get into our car
covered in ice so thick, so cold
the doors frozen shut?

Remember the night we couldn’t speak
because there was so much frozen
to say?

That ice.
It thaws.

75 :: Pussy Willows

When we cut them
down in the swamp
the fuzz was nearly invisible,
still tucked inside.

Hiding.

Two days in the house,
and here they are.

Emerged.

Warmth does that.

Candle Wreaths

316 :: Candle Wreaths

It’s so wintery outside today — the girls and I were inspired to go out and gather little bits of red and green to make candle wreaths for the dinner table. I love to watch the enthusiasm they bring to these little projects that we’ve been doing together since they were tiny and it was mostly me doing the crafting. Now, it is mostly them. And I’m just the photographer.

October Green

273 :: Wooded

Bringing in the house plants that spent the summer outside; wondering at how much they’ve grown; getting soil all over the kitchen table and floor and counter . . .

271 :: Succulent

274 :: October Poetry

274 :: Maybe the Last Bouquet?

The greenhouse seed babies are thriving and this little man has been busy making a mud pit full of “hot cocoa” just outside the door. I’m thinning and he’s brewing; so come on over for some cool microgreens and warm drinks! I love gardening in this giant terrarium on the cusp of autumn. It’s such a paradox to watch new life burst forth as everything else outside slows down and lets go.

272 :: Back to Work in the Greenhouse

276 :: Mud Land