Take a moment to linger over each picture below. It'll be like you and I are taking a walk through my garden. Take your time. Breathe. Savor. Imagine the hot sun on your shoulder and the breeze cooling your skin.
Come into the garden...
And now we're back inside, eating raspberries and drinking sun tea. I'm so glad you came.
It's nearly summer here in the North.
Last night we slept with the windows open and the blankets pulled off of the bed, a fan in every window. We have central air, but somehow I feel like we're missing out on the change of the seasons if we pump cold air in, rather than revel in the sticky heat when summer rolls into town.
So it's been sweaty. 90 F sort of sweaty outside, and 86 F sort of sweaty in. Summer has arrived and in a few days it'll be official.
Hot, sultry, sublime.
After four days away my garden turned to an impenetrable jungle. Green chaos held back only by the strength of our fence.
Have you had the experience of being away from your child for a couple of days yet? If you have you remember the realization upon their return that they are different. They have grown. Physically. Intellectually. In just a couple of days you feel that they are different than when you said goodbye.
Coming back to the garden was like that, only greener.
Everything was different.
Without my help the stinkbugs had left the cucumbers, the sunflowers had opened, and all manner of growth had occurred. The lettuces had bolted and there were zucchini. Honest to goodness zucchini.
While I appreciated the display of independence, I wasn't sure we'd bounce back from that chaos.
But after a couple of hours of pulling weeds, some harvesting of gigantic peas and lettuces, and staking the tomatoes and it looks just as good as before we left.
And oh, the volunteers. (Some might call them "weeds".) The garden is brimming with so many plants that arrived uninvited.
As I looked through the photos I made yesterday I realized that not one of my favorites was of a plant that came about with human help. Yes, I've planted plenty of the standard garden faire. Kohlrabi, peas, beans, zucchini, cucumbers, broccoli, tomatoes, and kale (among others).
But every plant above came on their own accord. They chose me, rather than the other way around. We liked them and we let them stay.
All volunteers. Sunflowers. Dandelions. Chamomile. Jewelweed. Raspberries.
Such a metaphor for life, isn't it? We plan and we plant and then let the magic happen. We'll reap what we sowed, and so much more.
Thanks for showing up, garden friends. I treasure you. I treasure you for your food and your medicine and your beauty - and the simple surprise of your arrival.