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.

yesterday, i set out with my camera to find just the right photo to accompany my latest story club story. i found this, a field full of wildflowers.

in the middle of the field, i see the heroine, eyes closed, feet bare, soft smile. she is twirling around on tip-toes, a straw hat held lightly in her hand.

every spring, during all the years i was away from michigan, my thoughts turned toward lilacs.

i remembered the purple lilacs by the back door, the white lilacs behind the house, and the pale violet lilacs around the neighborhood.

i remembered the lilac bouquets in the middle of the kitchen table. they were usually in a white hourglass vase with a red & yellow flower on it.

i remembered my youthful desire for a wedding bouquet of lilacs. (though i wasn’t entirely sure how to reconcile a spring flower with a fall wedding.)

i remembered the scent. it was sweet but not cloying, floral but not heady or overpowering.

to me, lilacs were spring.

when i moved to portland, i fell in love with tulips.

i loved the rainbow of colors, the waxy green leaves, the soft wide petals.

i loved their arrival – early in the year, when the grey + rain threatened to overtake me.

i loved the way the flowers drooped, slowly, over the edge of the vase, as if they were too heavy for their stems.

i loved the way the petals dropped, slowly, one by one.

even as i reveled in the tulips, i never forgot the lilacs.

to me, tulips looked like spring, but lilacs smelled like spring, and every year i missed them.

this spring, lilacs were not in my memory, but in my life.

i watched lilacs blow in the wind while wandering around the neighborhood with the pup.

i gathered lilac bouquets for the kitchen table and my bedroom and my grandparents’ house.

i watched the birds come and go from the bird feeder nestled in the lilac bush by the kitchen window.

i buried my nose in the blossoms, and closed my eyes in pleasure.

in the scent of lilacs, my past and present said hello.

it is spring.

yes, it is spring.

the sun came out, and i had thoughts in my head, so i took the pup to the trail by the lake. he wandered while i wrote.

everything around me was full of light & color & life.

blue & yellow wildflowers were nestled near tree trunks and in open meadows.

purple & white lilacs swayed back and forth in the wind.

the water was deep blue in color, the grasses and leaves bright green. the sunlight sparkled on the water while the waves lapped at the shore.

a flock of canadian geese took to flight as atlas drew near.

i don’t know why, but it made me think about money and how sometimes, when you don’t have much, you think that having more would change everything. i realized that, in truth, those tiny moments of joy + beauty would be exactly the same.

no matter what is going on in my life, i want to notice + appreciate them.

while on a hike, i stood on a dock for a while to admire this view, bird song and frog song all around me. the frogs croaked in turn, so it was fun to follow their song around the water.

in the midst of this chorus was a croak that was so loud, i thought the frog must be under my feet, or at least right next to me. while i looked for the owner of the croak, i recorded the frog chorus on my phone.

i tried to get a clean sound, but atlas kept inserting himself into the mix in his own peculiar way – apparently he was very very thirsty. in the end, the recording made me giggle, so i thought you might enjoy it too.

(in case you’re wondering, i did find the elusive frog. he was spring green in color and hiding under some grasses to my left & behind me. i was amazed to discover that he was the size of my palm – i have a child-sized hand – so clearly he was an expert at projecting his voice.)

{an irregular series of postcards from our wild friends. this one is from a yellow warbler named viola. previous postcards: fred, constance, sam.}

today has been a busy day. apparently i am nesting, because i have done nothing but work on my nest. this is my very first nest and i want it to be perfect. plus, i like the idea of sitting in comfort.

building a nest is very satisfying work. especially now. i am building my nest at the top of a lilac bush. have you ever smelled lilacs in the springtime? if you have smelled them, perhaps you know why i decided to build my nest here. first, my babies will smell each other and me. then, they will smell the sweetness.

(can you even see me? maybe you can see my yellow feathers among all the green. i saw someone taking this picture but didn’t have time to stand still for them. my eggs are calling me!)

your friend, viola

wishing you could find postcards from the wild in your mailbox?

now you can!

because it’s spring-summer, and your time is precious, i’m going to keep this short & sweet.

here are the specifics.

what: you’ll receive five postcards ~ five members of the animal kingdom, in photo + story.

where: the postcards will arrive in your mailbox.

when: the postcards will arrive randomly, beginning in october. (i have a secret wish to photograph a particular wild animal, and i need some time.)

who: perhaps, you!

why: you love animals. you love mail. you love tiny + delightful stories. you know that the wild is full of wisdom & full of wonder. you want to connect with the wild in & around you.

cost: $29

do join me in this postcard adventure!

i’d be delighted + honored to have you along.

–>this offering is no longer available. maybe next year!

p.s. postcards from the wild might make just the right gift.

for a wild heart in the city, a child who loves animals, or a house-bound elderly relative.

clearly spring-summer is here, because atlas is eating a salad a day again. he usually chooses greens along the trail but, in a pinch, he’ll eat the greens in front of the house. after all these years, this habit still makes me giggle. i used to tell him that if i wanted to hike with a cow, i would have gotten a cow, but i didn’t. instead, i got him – a dog who eats grass whenever it’s in season, simply because he likes it.

on saturday, we went for a hike. it was a nice day, but a little too warm for atlas (he likes it cooler than 70 & it was 80 that day). he was so hot – even though he hiked in the shade and drank from a fish pond & the river & the lake – that i shared my ice cream cone with him. after a few licks, he apparently forgot we were sharing, because he chased the cone with his tongue and then took a sideways bite and ate the whole top off. and then he wanted to eat the cone too! silly pup.

i’m hoping that atlas will swim this year. so far, no such luck. it’s hard to blame him; the water is icy. one afternoon, i found a nice stick on the shore. when i showed it to atlas, he was intrigued, so i threw it in the water. he went in after it, but when the water touched his belly, he stopped and looked at the stick for a while, then turned around and came back out. maybe i need to throw in a hamburger or a hotdog.

atlas can now add beavers to his wildlife sightings. the dead beaver interested him more than the live one – possibly because the live one was out in the water. i guess we’ll find out if we run into a beaver on the trail or in the swamp someday.

atlas says hello, and offers two spring-summer suggestions:

• lie down on your back on the grass and wriggle.
• lie down on a blanket in the shade for a nap.

report back, please!

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.)

for some reason, i was remembering the early days of practicing a new belief – one that said i had worth + value.

one of the ideas i used was that of a baby. of course a baby had worth + value. it seemed inherent. it seemed obvious. it was impossible for me to think of anything that could happen in that baby’s life that would take away their inherent worth + value.

i have a very logical + analytical mind, so it was impossible to deny that the same would also apply to me. my mind could see that it was true, even if i couldn’t feel, didn’t know, the truth of it in my body just yet.

while our bodies + minds may change, i do think we carry all the versions of us that ever were somewhere deep inside, even if it’s only as a long-forgotten memory. i think of how mothers see their babies in their grown-up children; i think of how i see my little puppy in my giant 11 year old atlas; and i wonder how we ever forget that we are still that tiny wondrous perfectly whole + complete human who wants to be – and is worthy of being – loved. especially (even) by our very own self.

may we always + ever come back to this, no matter how many times we forget.