well, another tiny baby has wiggled its way into my auntie heart. i love this little boy so much i can hardly stand it.

today, i said goodbye. to benjamin. to savannah. to my sister. then, i cried, because i missed them already. i want everyone to live right by me so i can see them often. but i had three weeks with benjamin and savannah, and it was glorious.

(apparently niblings is the term for nieces & nephews. i didn’t like it at first, but now it’s growing on me.)

savannah and her new baby brother are here for a visit. i am quite sure she is the most adorable little three year old ever ever ever.

“good job, kiddo,” she said to atlas, while hugging him. (he was not doing anything at all.)

“yes. that would be awesome!” she replied to me, when i asked her if she would like puffins for breakfast.

“are you cracking eggs? well done.” she said to me, when she saw me cracking eggs for pancakes.

(it’s possible i feel about my nieces + nephews the way i feel about atlas, in that even their breathing is the cutest thing ever.)

i caught a glimpse of red + orange through the trees while taking atlas out for his night-time potty run. though i was pajama-clad – preparing to write about something else entirely – i ran back inside for my camera and drove the three miles to the lake.

lake superior was eggplant in color; waves crashed on the rocky shore; and a streak of color delineated the horizon.

i watched in silent wonderment.

so, with love, i offer this – my view of the unfolding of the night.

the thing that tripped me up the most, in the early days of finding my own style, was color. color was a complete mystery. how did one know whether one color went with another color? it’s a wonder i wore anything other than blue jeans.

naturally, i was always amazed by the jcrew catalog because they paired the most unlikely seeming (to me) colors together. so much color! and it looked so good.

i just noticed that these coneflowers are pink and orange, and it reminded me of those catalogs. their stylists must draw some of their inspiration from flowers. (i suppose it could be the other way around, but i doubt that coneflowers receive catalogs.)

i need to remember this. in truth, color is still somewhat of a mystery to me; however, i no longer care what other people think about my style choices, so i do manage to wear it.

last monday evening, my sister and pup and i went to lily pond – a public boat launch on the houghton canal – to cool off before bed. (when the temperature is high, 10pm is the perfect time for a swim.)

it was so fun jumping off the dock into the canal. i felt like a little kid. atlas deigned to join us, but he did walk partway down the boat ramp afterward to get a drink of water.

(i don’t know why it’s called lily pond. maybe it’s near a lily pond? back in the day, whenever my cousins came to town, they’d swim at lily pond. i never joined them. i thought it was a lily pond and i preferred the lake. clearly i missed out!)

my mother asked me to take care of her rose bushes for a bit.

i have never liked roses, their scent or their appearance, even after years in the rose city. still, i was happy to help. (it was a chance to play gardener.)

after a morning walk with the pup, i found the trimming shears, took off my sandals, and settled in among the roses.

as i trimmed the dead and dying roses so the plant would flower again, i couldn’t help but marvel at them.

the flowers were varying shades of pink: pale pink to deep rose. the petals were soft to the touch.

the roses that were past their prime had a brown tint around the edge and the entire flower seemed loose and floppy. when i brushed against a dying rose, its petals fell to the ground like a gentle spring shower.

the air around the rose bush vibrated with the buzz of yellow & black bumblebees. we worked together, their bodies and my fingers circling each other in a simple dance.

from time to time, i paused in my work because my flower was already occupied.

i’d watch the bumblebee move slowly and clumsily around the yellow pollen. when it was done, it would lift off and fly over to a new flower while i snipped the stem of the rose it had already tasted, just below the petals.

as the rose fell at my feet, i’d wonder if the bumblebee noticed it was gone.

an hour later, the soles of my feet were black, the earth was carpeted in pink, and i was in love with roses.

later that afternoon, i read a line in the book the shack that seemed to explain everything.

“so many believe that it is love that grows, but it is the knowing that grows and love simply expands to contain it. love is just the skin of knowing.”

i now know roses as the wonder that they are, and i am delighted to have made their acquaintance.

here, i am learning the art of flower arranging after reading a how-to article that made it seem both logical + learnable in a magazine at my grandparents’ house.

this is an excellent way to practice imperfection. my bouquets never look the way i envision them and i am usually less than satisfied. this is partly because i am using wildflowers; the wildflowers that grow in profusion are tiny and ideally i’d have a few large blooms for contrast.

here, my adventures in wildcrafting continue. last month, i made red clover lemonade and red clover tea.

the red clover tea was good. the red clover lemonade was ok. at least, that was my verdict on the lemonade until i realized i hadn’t made lemonade at all. somehow, i forgot to add the lemon and only realized it when the lemonade iced tea was almost gone.

here, the strawberries are ripening. i am hoping to gather enough wild strawberries for a shortcake. or at least for my breakfast.

here, the fourth of july weekend was full of small-town celebration. there were fireworks, a bbq, art at first friday, ice cream cones, the milkman’s jamboree, blueberry pie, and family, including adult time with a childhood cousin and her husband.

there was also a swim in the lake – my first for the year. i didn’t duck – i just couldn’t get my head underwater – but i certainly swam. after much balking + squealing while standing waist-deep in the water, i paddled around for a bit and then shivered my way to shore.

when i reflect on my days, they seem so simple, and yet they feel so full + rich.

here, i am counting my (simple + beautiful) blessings.

on sunday, my sister and i went out for lunch with my grandparents and my brother + sister-in-law + nephew. atlas came too. it was a cool day and he likes car rides so we brought him along to nap in the car and eat my leftover ribs.

on the way home, i turned around to look at atlas. he was lying on the seat with his head up and his eyes mostly closed, as if he was trying to stay awake but couldn’t.

“look at atlas,” i told my sister. “he’s so cute with his eyes closed!”

she turned around and looked at him.

“i think he’s closed his eyes before,” she said.

“well, yes, but now he’s doing it in your car!”

she giggled. “i feel like after 11 years, the newness of things would wear off, but with you and atlas, it never does.”

i am always trying to decide on the silliest way i’ve ever ended the phrase “he’s so cute when he ..” today, i think the winner is either this or “he’s so cute when he breathes.”

here, the earth is all a’bloom. one day, i wished for buds and blossoms. a few days later, it seemed, i saw soft fuzzy pussy willow buds. a few days later, it seemed, every tree had exploded into bloom and wildflowers were waving at me from the grass. (today, my favorite is the tiny wild violet.)

here, the sun is bright and the days are warm. atlas is in summer mode, rolling on the green grass, napping in the shade, and complaining about walks in the sunshine. today, he followed a tiny frog around the yard. every few steps, he’d nose it curiously and then wrinkle his nose and shake his head.

here, my arms are red – after peeling a five gallon bucket of carrots in the sunshine without sunscreen. and tired – after a week spent spring cleaning my grandparents’ yard (with the exception of the four largest downed branches, which i left for others, because i grew bored of sawing before they broke in two and my dad didn’t think i could start the chainsaw). there are ice cream cones on the deck, games of tennis, and bare feet on the grass. it is possible that i will attempt a swim soon, even though the water is almost as cold as ice.

here, spring and summer arrive in tandem. i had forgotten this. (and still, yes still, there are patches of snow.)

two sundays ago, while (not) waiting for me to take a photo, atlas managed to hobble a back paw while wrapping the leash around and around a front paw and felled himself like a tree on some very prickly grasses. he cried. i had to quickly climb up the ledge and rescue him (from himself).

this past sunday, atlas flung himself down on every single patch of green grass in the yard and wriggled around on it with glee.

on monday night, atlas saw ten deer in the three mile drive home from the lake. he has been running in his dreams ever since.