I stand at the window and look out at my garden. Birds come and go from the feeder.
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When’s the last time you noticed something that made you pause to look, to think, to wonder? A little moment seemingly outside of time?
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The days are flying past faster and faster. I can’t believe June has already come and gone. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I’m trying to slow down and enjoy summer’s magic and yet, time still flies.
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September is here. How did that happen?
During this month we often get our first killing frost, turning my garden to blackened mush and ending its season of painting inspiration. Is it any wonder that I mourn the coming of the fall?
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I sit in the garden and watch the robins taking turns on the nest in the birch tree. The nest is perched in a crotch of branches high above my patio. It doesn’t look very secure, but I’ve watched it hold tight when its windy. One robin swoops to the branch and the other plunges away. A few minutes later they switch. And switch again.
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All week long I’ve been painting whirly birds.* That’s what I used to call maple seeds when I was young.
At this time of year when the seeds come helicoptering to the ground it’s hard not to feel a surge of childlike joy. I walk around with my eyes to the ground trying to find the most interesting ones.
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Thank you so much for sharing your thoughts (in comments and email) after my questions about blogs in last week’s post. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking after reading what you wrote; your words brought about a few epiphanies for me.
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Lately I feel as if I’m always in a hurry. As if the days are hurtling by and I can barely keep up. I’ve been feeling like this for a while and I don’t like it. One of the reasons we moved out of the city was to live a slower life, but here I am rushing, again.
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