This morning, as I stepped into the garden with my watering hose, July announced its arrival with characteristic intensity. The bees that greeted me carried an agitated energy - not the curious, gentle hum of spring pollinators, but something sharper, more territorial. Twice I found myself slowly setting down my hose and backing away, reading their body language like a conversation I didn't want to escalate. Their pissy mood mirrors my own relationship with this month that drives me indoors, away from the swelling armies of wasps, stinging ants, and mosquitoes that turn my skin into a battlefield within seconds.
July is my month of retreat. I close the blinds and turn inward, using this forced hibernation to purge and prepare for autumn's arrival. My solace comes in stolen moments under the cover of darkness, floating in our pool beneath a canopy of stars, marveling at the circle of ancient trees that stand like friends holding hands around our property. I'm always drawn to the couple that still bear tornado scars from a decade ago, their truncated crowns a testament to resilience, to the way life finds new forms after devastation.
And then I stopped in my tracks. Today is July 1st.
I have written daily for 182 days straight!
The realization hit me like morning light breaking through those protective blinds. On January 1st, I made a commitment to write every single day of 2025. Like any worthy goal, it's been built through small, daily acts, each one seemingly insignificant until you step back and witness what accumulation creates. Every day I print my writing and place it in those thick 3-ring binders my kids once used for homeschooling (when we homeschooled…sigh). Two and a half binders now sit on my shelf, heavy with words and intention. I dream of synthesizing these seasonal musings into something cohesive by year's end—perhaps a seasonal journal that weaves the rhythms of nature with the human heart.
What strikes me most in this halfway moment is the profound gratitude I feel for this Wild Roots Collective tribe we're growing together. I envision us gathered in a virtual circle around a warm hearth, processing and uniting as we collectively rewrite, rescript, emerge, and midwife what wants to be born. To those of you who've become paid subscribers - every time I see that icon when I log into Substack, something shifts inside me. It's not just support; it's a glimpse into what it might feel like to make a living through words, to trust that this calling has worth in the world.
But paid or unpaid, I carry each of you with me - in garden rows, on walking trails, in moments of quiet contemplation. I listen for our collective understory, that bass note that hums beneath our individual stories. Will I hear it clearly? Perhaps not. But I know this: when we show up authentically, something happens. Something shifts. I'm here for the journey itself, not just the destination, and I'm thrilled to witness how our community deepens its roots and reaches toward new growth.
I dream of the day we gather in person, a retreat where we sit around an actual fire, sharing stories face to face, letting nature hold space for the connections we're building through screens and words. Sound good?
For now, I'll roll up my sleeves and finally tackle that closet I've been promising to purge for weeks. Tonight, if the stinging armies allow, I'll sit on my screened porch and listen to the symphony of crickets, frogs, and approaching thunderstorms. Despite the barrier between me and the Wild, I'll lean in and listen for what the second half of this year wishes to bring forward.
What about you? As we cross this threshold into the year's second act, what do you hope to see less of, and what are you ready to welcome more fully into your life?
With gratitude and anticipation,
xx, Victoria
I notice a shifting towards simplicity. I hope it's not wishful thinking on my part, but in so many varied elements of my life, even in the tech realm, I feel we have completely over-complicated our lives. Nationally and personally, all these *things* (physical and in thought) that we've been brainwashed into believing is the only path, have disappointed us. We are not better off. Maybe it's my pining for the GenX ways; maybe it's wishful thinking; but I have even seen glimpses of it from younger generations.... we need simplicity and grassroots. There's nothing "wrong" with that and may even lead to peace and... could it be(?)... happiness.
Would love to meet in person one day!