At least it assured I would have time to sketch--this from a time-lapse journal page.
So, I was grateful I had taken time in the early morning to wander, and observe, and dream...
Leaves danced and sparkled and shed their droplets with a syncopated patter after an unexpected shower. Birds crowded the feeders; jays called loudly overhead...
|The fence between our backyard smallholding and the shed is almost hidden in burgeoning green. The rain has provided needed moisture and the green leaves rejoice!|
|A darkened stem draws spiky lines against the rocks in Hotei's garden...was it sumac, or grape, or...? I like a good unanswered question or two...|
|The tin crane sculpture atop the fence is a shadowy presence in all the leaves...I almost forget he's not real.|
|I love my tiny Zen garden with the dragonfly lantern...perhaps I'll put a candle inside one evening and sit by its flame-light dancing on the rocks.|
|English ivy climbs the corner of the shed...it spreads everywhere, and I let it. In truth, I can't bear to cut it back!|
|Fascinating root shapes...last year's corn from my 3 sisters hills still offer their beauty, though no longer anchoring the tall plants in the ground...|
|Sweet, sweet serendipity...I found the remains of a softball in the woods and loved that it echoed the shape of my round rocks...two years later, it has sprouted a moss garden of its own.|
|Waiting to become...|
And some things are postponed for reasons I may discern later. I have saved a nest of dry shavings to make a fire in a more primitive fashion, during this month of re-wilding...and it has rained off and on for a week.
I plan a small installation of black and white stones near the Zen garden...a mandala, a spiral...and again, it is too wet to sit upon the ground.
I trust when the time is right, it will become clear to me. So much of this journey revolves around trust, and unfolding, and time.
And perhaps that is the lesson.