Past present future
day lily blooms in stages
enjoying the now.
Today I’m thankful for life’s little mysteries.
I have no idea what this lovely plant is called, but my lack of
knowledge in no way detracts from my appreciation for this image.
It’s true that ignorance can be bliss.
The more specific we are, the more universal something can become.
Life is in the details. If you generalize, it doesn’t resonate.
The specificity of it is what resonates.
~ Jacqueline Woodson
As I revise a young adult novel written years ago, I’m adding specific details in hopes of creating a resonance. May my story bloom as specifically and beautifully as this iris from my garden!
I’ve blogged before about people ghosting me when it comes to picking up free perennials from my yard. In fact, last fall’s episode turned into a huge, time-sucking disaster. After that debacle I vowed to only put plants out at the curb with a FREE sign on them and to let whatever happens happen.
So why did I reach out to the man who’d shown up last fall minutes late for those plants? Because he’d come all that way and left empty-handed (after someone from the neighborhood ended up taking the plants, I guess). But more importantly, I reached out because he seemed like a good guy in need of plants for the non-profit he started. So I texted him the other day and told him what I had available. He immediately replied that he was interested and that he could pick them up Sunday afternoon. He said, “I’ll text you.”
Sure, dude. Watch me age as I wait for that text.
So here I am, again, with plants that need to be put in the ground soon. One garbage bag filled with Lamb’s Ear and another bag of Golden Yarrow and Russian Sage.
I’d ask if anyone reading this wants them, but we all know how that would play out.
While I await its return, here are some springtime clematis blooms from several years ago.
Spring, please hurry on back!
A few minutes ago I was working in my front yard, sowing death and destruction via my homemade weed killer (white vinegar, salt, and dish soap), while feeling frustrated and worn out by neverending garden demands. I was dreaming of a full-time gardener. Or better yet, a tiny house and one pot of geraniums. Or maybe a barrel of gasoline and a match to make it all go away.
Then I hit PAUSE on my grumpiness and focused on some blooming tulips.
It really is a wonderful thing to survive a long, dark, cold, snowy winter and be rewarded with colorful flowers. I’m still dreaming of my own gardener, but in the meantime I’m gonna try to appreciate the beauty poking through the tangled, weedy mess that is my front yard.
I took this photo from the boardwalk at Kapok Park and just did a quick online search in hopes of identifying the plant. I was unsuccessful.
However, I don’t need to know the name of this lovely flora to appreciate its beauty. But if anyone out there can identify it for me, I’d welcome the information.
It’s Sunday evening.
And it’s cold, gray, and snowing.
The entire landscape appears to be either dead or frozen.
I realize it’s best to live in the moment, fully embracing the “now,” but honestly? I’m not at all in the mood for that here’s-the-best-way-to-stay emotionally-healthy nonsense.
Right now my “now” is all about looking ahead to the vibrant warmth of my garden in bloom.
On a related note, Zippy just abruptly left the house after receiving two small tokens of love plus a handmade card from me. Unless he returns with, say, a tequila-pouring cabana boy or a box full of kittens, I’m thinking maybe it’d be better to let this one slide.
Today I’m grateful it’s the second shortest day of the year and that soon we’ll be gaining daylight. I’m also grateful for this photographic reminder that although the landscape is currently dry-and-drab as far as the eye can see, brown doesn’t always mean dead. And ugly. And depressing.
Brown can also bring joy. Today I post this intricately beautiful brown iris as a reminder that blooms of many colors are in my not-so-distant future.