Hello friends!
After a busy few weeks, our second batch of family has headed back to Detroit. As I sort sheets and towels for the laundry, I’ve been trying to recenter myself and get ready for the last of the summer visitors, due to arrive from Ohio this weekend.
In the midst of the boisterousness of having grandchildren in the house and the quieter evenings with adults gathered around the living room, I’ve somehow been on my own quiet journey.
For multiple days in the past few weeks we have been under air quality alerts due to the smoke from wildfires burning unabated in Canada. The sky was heavy with the smell of the burning forests and the thickness of the air. I worried about our lungs and the lungs of the birds and animals that share our space anywhere the sky is grim. The sun glowed a menacing orange as it headed toward the horizon each evening. The moon, which was becoming full and then full, burned orange as well. It felt apocalyptic. Even as we waded in the kiddie pool, even as we read books—curled up in one another’s arms, even as we made Duplo towers and even as we made blueberry pancakes with freshly picked berries…we felt the oppression of the air.
After a very wet spring, we are now verging on drought here. The gardens are thirsty. We water from the rain barrel, but we need to use the house hose as well. Grasses are turning golden before their usual time, the day lily blooms are all spent, dust is kicking up as folks drive along our dirt road.
I am trying to find my way out of this existential ennui.
So, for the rest of August I will show up more often here at my “sewandsowlife”. My mission is to gather LIGHT. For myself and for you, dear readers.
This quiet, meditative, lovely, quiet book may be the saving of me this August. Inspired by much of what I read, I wandered out for a quiet stroll more than once. Looking. Watching. Noticing.
(Our book group, gathered on Friday evening, gave the book high marks, and credited it with being a fine distraction from the real world. Our conversation over dinner lingered into the twilight and as we walked to our cars the noises of goats and chickens settling for the night sent us off into the evening…appreciating the respite of time with thoughtful friends.)
I grew up next door to my paternal grandparents and as a kid, I loved sitting under my gram’s huge dogwood tree. Its branches drooped nearly to the ground, creating a shelter to read under. Batman and I planted a “pagoda dogwood” outside our kitchen window, the only variety that seemed Vermont winter hardy. It has been growing spectacularly. In the early summer it is covered in clusters of tiny white blossoms. Now the berries are ripe and the robins have already discovered their tastiness.
I found a yellow jacket nest, hollowed out of the lawn, close to the house. I am very curious to know how they managed to dig such a hole! They are demons of the late summer, aggressive and mean.
And on the very same day, I spotted a honeybee landing on the goldenrod, which carpets the meadow with its signature yellow.
The garlic is drying on the front porch and the crabapples are blushing up on the tree planted for its excellence in making jelly.
What signs are you spotting, dearest readers, of a season shifting gears? Of a world rolling along despite all the crap we can throw at it? Of an encroaching darkness that we can push back with our strong muscle of hope?
I’ll be back with more LIGHT in the next few days.
Until then, remember that we are all connected…by hope, by love, by light. Carry on.
XOXOXO