Somewhere in the wonderland of childhood, we began to learn the concept of time. How many days until summer vacation? Until the first day of school? Until our birthday? We had Advent calendars that counted the days until Christmas. And charts on the fridge that marked our daily / weekly chores. Time seemed to be quantified by the number of days.
Now it's characterized by the quality of those days...
Tempus Fugits is the latin term for "time flies." Would it be more accurate to say, "time fidgets"? I think so. It slows and hurries; crawls and races. And suddenly, we wonder, just how did we get to be in this moment?
Time in my gardens is like that. Winter crawls as I look through the windows and make a mental note of chores that need doing. And I dream of all I'll do when (finally) the weather warms. It speeds up as the days lengthen, and my to-do list keeps pace. Then suddenly it seems that there's no stopping time. I spend days cleaning garden beds, weeding and thinning volunteers and perennials, and planting new babies. And I continue to dream about how gorgeous the gardens will be next week, next month, by the end of summer.
But I'm in a holding pattern right now. I feel like a runner in the starting blocks, waiting for the shot that signals the race has begun. My heart is racing, I'm vigilant, I'm ready...
And then the day comes when the buttercups explode in my fields. They don't last long, so I enlist my husband and neighbors to help me pick them. I need to stockpile them for my candles and incense because they ONLY bloom at a certain time in May.
The roses have somehow (and quite miraculously to me) spread. I planted an old-fashioned, super fragrant Rosa rugosa several years ago. Within the last year, it has decided to send babies everywhere! And now, ALL AT ONCE, they are blooming. And it's raining. I need to wait to harvest the flowers (again, to stockpile for the year) until the rain stops and the petals can dry. "Hurry up, and send some sun," I pray. The Universe answers that everything is divinely timed. Nature knows what she is doing far better than I, and certainly needs no influence from me. So I wait -- ready to dash -- for when the sun dries the petals and I gather my roses, my spirit animal, to me.
And the peonies!!! The buds have swelled and they are straining at their cages. I know that given just another day or two of sun and warmth, they too will be an explosion of scent and color and magic. I plan to make Peony Flower Essence this year (stay tuned). Peony has the ability to help protect our mind, body, and soul. It also keeps our homes safe during storms. This gorgeous flower was named for Paeon, the Greek god of healing, who was said to have used the flower to create healing balms for injured warriors. And as I write these words, Spirit popped in with a request for me to make a healing balm for wounded light warriors -- magic and light that we can draw in through our skin.
Gosh I love how our world works. I dream and do. I envision my gardens and nurture her tenants. And then God pops in with another idea, another way for me to share the blending of Spirit and Earth with you, sweet friend.
And I while I certainly do not want summer to fly, I know that it's inevitable. Time DOES fidget. But I have faith that I'll get done what needs doing, and that I'll have plenty of time to rest when I'm finished.
I'm so grateful for you.