“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” —Sir John Lubbock

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

Summer’s here and a rainbow of flowers is growing in my yard. I guess I’m still a girl at heart because this kind of thing thrills me. My garden is only missing a unicorn.



King Sun he climbs the summer sky

Ascending ever higher.

He mounts his gay midsummer throne,

All made of golden fire.

His flowing mantle, flowing free,

His shining gifts he showers

All golden on the earth and sea,

On men and beasts and flowers.

— J. Aulie, from Summer, A Collection of Poems, Songs and Stories for Young Children

Ian laid these beautiful flagstones in April after a painstaking process of leveling the ground. This path leads from our backyard patio off the kitchen to our side yard, where we hide our garbage and recycling cans. The ground cover we planted between the stones is growing in beautifully. Here’s the before shot from April 26th, when it was about two-thirds planted.

Here it is on May 31st.

All three ground covers—chamomile lawn, pennyroyal, and ajuga (chocolate chip variety)—have really expanded. It remains to be seen how they cope with the Sacramento summertime heat. Two of the three types smell lovely and the pennyroyal is supposed to be an insect repellent, which sounded like a good thing to plant near our patio.

I still want to plant more summer veggies and herbs to the left of the path. We only have some chard, zucchini, mint, parsley, and a few beans growing now. Our soil is so heavy with clay that it really needs tons of amendment. To the right, we have a lovely patch of rosemary, oregano, and sage. All of these are thriving.

It’s weird how one can feel opposite feelings about the same thing. For example, I felt both

grateful

and disappointed

about doing this today, on Memorial Day:

So, to care for and console myself, I took a ten-minute break outside in my garden to look at these:

Green and purple hydrangea buds

Squirrel in my pecan tree

Nasturtiums grown from seed

Dusty miller buds about to pop

Pansies

Mexican primrose and African daisies

More nasturtiums grown from seed

Day lily

And now I feel

reenergized

amazed

galvanized

and happy.

You may be bored with these spring pictures posts but I’m not. I seem to be endlessly fascinated with small things lately; they are unbelievably intricate if you look closely.

This blackberry maiden is being visited by her bee paramour, who is all up in her business.

I like the tangle and riot of color that makes up wild places.

Maypole top and blue sky.

This is redwood sorrel on the forest floor at Muir Woods. When the sun shines too brightly on this shade-loving plant, it folds its leaves down to minimize the exposure.

I’ve never really gardened from seed before. This spring Lucas and I put a variety of seeds directly in the ground or in pots. So far we seem to be having good luck with the corn, pumpkins, chard, cucumber, nasturtiums, morning glories, and four o’clocks. It’s kind of a miracle when the little seedling emerges from the earth! If they thrive it will be another miracle.

Blue is rather rare among plants. We found this wildflower at Indian Grinding Rock in April.

Red seeds soar above the Japanese maple in my backyard. To me they look like birds in flight.

The same day I noticed all those orange Chinese fringe flower leaves in my backyard and made the orange leaf “flower,” I also realized that the photinia leaves scattered on the ground were quite colorful. It was surprising. It’s spring, after all, and one expects leaves to be green, or maybe red like the new growth on this plant. When the photinia leaves lie haphazardly where they fall, it’s hard to notice their color variants. Gathering some together revealed almost a rainbow. My gratitude goes out to the land artists who made me realize that leaves, even from the same plant, are not all one color.

Seeing—really seeing—is something that comes naturally to some. For others it requires some discipline. We often interact with our surroundings using a kind of visual shorthand, taking in only the most general details as we move through space. Seeing is something I’m working on because really seeing sometimes leads to finding. Discovery gives one quite a marvelous feeling, don’t you think? Over time, I’ve come to understand that discovery is very often a simple matter of tilting your head to the side, brushing off the debris, and revealing what was there all along. To my way of thinking, this is proof that miracles are all around us—and within.

Inspired by SouleMama {this moment} – A Friday ritual. A single photo – no words – capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.

I don’t wander very far from home, most days, and yet I always find something that inspires me and fills me with wonder. I’m grateful for all the beauty that I’ve soaked in this spring. I’m trying to use it to stoke my own internal creativity and patience.

Graceful catkins decorate this tree, which is the last one to leaf out in my backyard. I wish I knew what it is.

I forget whether this is a “Sterling Silver” or “Blue Girl” rose, but man, it smells sweet! It’s silly that I don’t remember, since I placed it there myself!

Wildflowers we found at Sacramento Waldorf School farm, when Ian, Asher, and I went looking for Lucas.

A rainbow of wheelbarrows at the SWS farm. They just looked so useful and beautiful at the same time.

Mint returning in my food garden plot, next to my parsley. I was told I’d regret planting mint directly in the ground instead of in a pot, but the truth is I am happy to see it coming up. Lucas frequently goes nibbling his way through the garden plot and enjoys making all sorts of mint soups and drinks.