Quinn is out of town this weekend, so I'm on puppy duty. Jax has a consistent wake-up time of 6:30 AM, and after some snuggle time, we headed out for our morning walk. Yesterday I shared how I don't typically take my usual walks in the heat of summer, and how I've missed it. This morning, Mother Nature did not disappoint…I felt like I received a software reboot for my soul.
The forest greeted us with diffused, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. Spots of light illuminated the deep woods like the sun was holding a flashlight, targeting certain pockets of forest to showcase. The chosen trees, bushes, and clearings lit up with Christmas light magic, these tiny areas of light dancing in the morning breeze. Dappled became my word for the day.
Even at 7 AM, there was a sense of mugginess building. Our regular cast of characters provided the soundtrack - Carolina Wren, Carolina Chickadee, Tufted Titmouse, and Cardinal. Strangely, the roosters Daisy and Edgar were unusually quiet. Do roosters hit snooze alarms too, even though they ARE Nature's alarm clock?
Red and dark pink blooms dominated the mid-July color palette. Crape Myrtles were in full bloom, their bushy dark pink blossoms looking like floral torches filling each tree. The lawns were lush and green from our unusually abundant rains - no crispy brown stretches like normal summer brings. I still don't understand why our trees drop leaves in summer, but there they were, scattered here and there like nature's confetti.
A wave of nostalgia swept over me as we passed a driveway with a hand-tossed newspaper awaiting its morning read. Such a simple thing, yet it carried the weight of ritual and connection.
On the backside of our lake sits an enormous, neglected Butterfly Bush that thrives in neglect. It had one tiny bloom at the base, a signal that it will soon explode in color. It's honestly one of my favorite blooming plants in our neighborhood. This yard, overgrown and unkempt, thrives. I've learned much from this yard over the years.
As we walked the dirt road, dodging goose poop graffiti everywhere (why do dogs want to eat it? I'll never understand), I noticed the contrast between two tall hedges. One was cut neat with perfect edges, the other wild with branches sticking up every which way, vines and other plants growing in, around, above, and below. Wild Edges. This contrast reminded me of my work as an Ecospiritual director, we play with the Wild Edges, the unruly parts of ourselves.
Bumblebees filled the centers of white and pink blooms like living dots, flying right down inside like guests checking into a cozy flower hotel. The geese glided on still water with only occasional small bubbles and ripples from underneath. A copperhead made an appearance on the dirt road, Jax and I respectfully moved to the other side and proceeded.
I wore my glasses to avoid the abundant kamikaze gnats divebombing our eyes. The squirrels weren't up yet at 7 AM - perhaps conserving energy for another hot day ahead. Big limbs lay on the forest floor from recent storms, some pushed to the edge where the return to the land begins.
Anything not cut, trimmed, or maintained was totally unruly and wild right now. Weeds in some areas stood as tall as me. Persnickety Pokeweed was making appearances again. I laughed out loud, a little like a scary movie laugh, when I noticed pine cones under a tree that had fallen and landed completely upright, like the mythical egg challenge at equinoxes.
Rambling roses seemed to have grown three feet overnight, their rogue branches reaching toward the heavens.
What all this brought to my awareness was that it's all of it. The tragedy, the beauty, the aliveness, the heat, the song, the unruly and tamed areas, the poop, the danger - it's all of it, all the time, in a delicate, delicious balancing act of life. I walk my walk, taking up space in this ecosystem, and I remember: I belong to this, not that.
As we walk into the weekend, my hope for you is always the same…more of what you need and want, and less of what you don't. May you have the weekend you need.
xx,
Victoria
“The tragedy, the beauty, the aliveness, the heat, the song, the unruly and tamed areas, the poop, the danger - it's all of it, all the time, in a delicate, delicious balancing act of life.”