“Instead of going to heaven at last,
I’m going all along.” —Emily Dickinson
There's an exuberance to summer that I find exhilarating. There is a heightened intensity to everything---the garden joyfully moves from whispering "have patience, I'm growing..." to shouting gleefully "look at me! look at me!"
Modesty gives way to boastful coneflowers taking center stage in my garden, growing by leaps and bounds, the cheerful yellow coreopsis tries to rival the sun, and my daylilies are joyfully reminding us all why we love summer so much.
What's not to love about a beautiful weekend morning, sitting on the deck with a cold glass of iced tea, droplets of condensation running down the glass and plopping onto my bare legs, while a mother cardinal pecks at seeds in my purple salvia and a robin cools off in the now "secret" birdbath?
I hope all of you had a chance to dance in the sunshine, sip a cool drink in the shade and rejoice in a world of beauty this past weekend. I recently came across this poem by Michael Escoubas, which shows that this poet enjoys his garden as much as I do mine.
Towel and Basin
This morning I plodded in pajamas
and bare toes toting my full water pitcher,
prepared as an offering for my
hanging blue Fan plant. The tall
I was met by a congregation
of glad-handed Hostas greeting
and touching me, choirs of Clematis
robed in purple, jovial Jonquils clad in yellow,
sun-facing Spiderworts, and sweet green Mint
mingled with spicy Oregano, breathing
their fragrances, glistening and glowing
They danced when they saw me;
asked no questions, made no judgments,
anointed me with dew, toweled my dusty
feet with warm sun, then sent me on
May you have a lovely start to your week!