One morning recently I was particularly grumpy. Not sure why. So I stepped out into the garden with my camera and decided to look at things up close. Glass orbs of dew clung to the edges of fennel and grape leaves; nasturtium leaves cupped oceans. I watched a lady bug crawl around and held my breath. The radial pattern in the sturdy echinacea amazed me just as the sun shone through the delicate skin of the poppy petals. Underfoot the mulched ground was soft as I tip-toed about, looking, looking, looking. When I went back upstairs to the studio my outlook on the day had turned.
Recent garden notes:
' A pair of goldfinches visit the bachelor buttons in the mornings now. They're so tiny!
' A thumb-sized mouse darted out from the chocolate mint to the chamomile and back. zip zip.
' White butterflies flutter all across the garden, like white confetti caught in a breeze, weaving with untraceable threads.
' I realized this afternoon, while watching a honey bee perch in a pillow of purple petals, that I could sit here all day, observing the activity in the garden.
What is to be gained from this observing?
Much, I say.
' I realized this afternoon, while watching a honey bee perch in a pillow of purple petals, that I could sit here all day, observing the activity in the garden.
What is to be gained from this observing?
Much, I say.