Growing Versions

Last May 31st , I decided to skip blogging in the month of June.   The weather is finally decent here in June and it seemed like the garden was a better place to be than inside my head and on the computer.Today was another great day and I stumbled into the rat's nest that is our back yard and tumbled down a rabbit hole of milk weed (nasty), a bleeding heart that might lead to my salvation and a business plan (selling flowers from the garden in a paper, hand designed cone, I KNOW, it's brilliant).  I got reacquainted with the clothes pins and the dark soil and breeze rustling the branches over head.  The backyard (especially the path to the oil tank) was a constant source of stress during our winter, but here it is putting me back together. I think I'll stay there for a while and come back in July.

 Each year, piece by piece, the knowledge  grows.  It's not knowledge I use everyday, it's not innate, but it's in there germinating.  Magnolias come first, and then daffodils, then rhododendrons and tulips. There are gaps, when exactly do the forsythia come? What is the sequence? Spotted some apple blossom tonight at the playground. Waiting impatiently for the lilacs... I will read this next winter to remind me about what I already know come spring.

"For me, trees have always been the most penetrating preachers. I revere them when they live in tribes and families, in forests and groves. And even more I revere them when they stand alone... In their highest boughs the world rustles, their roots rest in infinity; but they do not lose themselves there, they struggle with all the force of their lives for one thing only: to fulfil themselves according to their own laws, to build up their own form, to represent themselves. Nothing is holier, nothing is more exemplary than a beautiful, strong tree. When a tree is cut down and reveals its naked death-wound to the sun, one can read its whole history in the luminous, inscribed disk of its trunk: in the rings of its years, its scars, all the struggle, all the suffering, all the sickness, all the happiness and prosperity stand truly written, the narrow years and the luxurious years, the attacks withstood, the storms endured." -Herman Hesse

As I waited for the light to change, I was assailed by the smell of a hundred daffodils.

When I really clean and empty packed boxes, bags and drawers, I find stuff. Stuff that I am so happy to find and uncover I feel like celebrating their discovery.  It spurs me on to get rid of all the stuff that it was buried under and showcase its charms in the light.

Last summer, I made peace with feeding my kids.  I decided that we will eat  as if it were summer all year round.   Why do vegetables have to be cooked? Why do meals have to be complicated?  They don't, in the summer. We all feast on camp suppers and bbq buffets and picnics. I decided to picnic through the snow storms and right through till June.  Picnicing to save our lives. Cucumber and dip and hummus and toast with avocado and berries and cereal for supper (occasionally).  Food is food no matter the time of day or year, let's just eat it and move on!  I've got another picnic to pack.

I regularly listen to  As it Happens while I wash the dishes.  Their interview with photographer   Sally Mann   made me want more dirty dishes so I could keep on listening. She explains her experience capturing her kids pre-iphone. She urges the listener to remember that photographs capture but a 30th of a second of their lives and they therefore, only tell one story.  The rest of their story will be told in other ways, some by their choosing, some not.  The rest of the interview is fascinating too about her Southern upbringing and her newer photography projects.

"The sun himself is weak when he first rises, and gathers strength and courage as the day gets on."-Charles Dickens

How you get points in this game, how you lose points and how the points get saved is known by one, and one alone.

Should we pre-pour the lemonade the night before? Should we switch business plans?                                                                        Re-branding.                                                              Workforce engagement.                                                          

"Your own exploration therefore has to be personalized; you're doing it for yourself, increasing your own store of particular knowledge, walking your own eccentric version of the city. ”  -Lost Art of Walking, Geoff Nicholson

We spent a lot of time walking together this weekend.We walked downtown and uptown and back again. The companions along the journey were these little creatures and their strollers, bikes and scooters.  They were acquired at a yard sale on Saturday morning and every hill and decline they met they were tested.  They passed every one. These friends in a can drew into my son's fold a host of new and old friends along the way.