For Everything There is a Season

As you may have guessed, Summer is my season. I thrive in the heat and sunshine that pour down on me for these few months each year. I was looking at the forecast this morning and there are 90’s in it y’all! I can not believe that we actually made it! As I have been walking in my garden lately, it has become apparent that there really is a time for each plant and that I definitely can’t rush anything into bloom or even growth. The peonies in my yard bloom every year in early June, without fail. Last year we had an early Spring. Weeks and weeks of cool crisp mornings and warm afternoons, I had anticipated the big, double blooms for so long! When they finally opened, the plants were massive, taller than normal and spilling out onto too narrow garden pathways, but the buds swelled open that first week of June like clockwork, they didn’t come earlier due to warmer spring temps.

This year the Winter hung on with icy claws for nearly all of Spring and allowed us only a short week or two of mild weather. It would appear that those peonies will bloom in about ten days though, putting us right in the same week as last year. How is that possible? The plants had such a short Spring to develop, yet they have done just that. Taken the time that was given and done exactly what they needed to do.

There is a lesson here for me, something like; “grow as much as you can in whatever time you’re given”. It seems kind of simple, doesn’t it? Keep learning, keep playing, keep doing. You might have a slow, easy Spring to grow and develop and spread your roots…but you might not. For some, the season is long, and cold, and hard, or it ends before we are ready. I don’t know what season you’re in as we get the quick shove into Summer. I don’t know if you’re prepared for it. As I gather joy and bask in the sunshine, maybe you’re in more of a hurting place, an uncertain place, an aching place. I feel like that’s an okay place to be. The Summer is good for contemplation, there are glasses of lemonade to sip on warm afternoons. There are extra hours of sunshine early in the quiet before people wake and start needing things from us.


There is time.


This writing has been good for me. Taking the time to put down on paper the thoughts that swirl around my brain at three A.M. has helped me better understand myself and where I am emotionally. Over the last month though, with Summer sunlight filling all of my waking moments I have let the laptop sit. We had some other projects working, things that I hope to share here as the season progresses. These things kept me from writing but more so, kept me from needing to write. I have felt better, calmer, safer, quieter in spirit. Part of that is simply the Summer, but when you’re doing the things that you feel will lend your soul peace, the peace just sort of comes. Even in the work, while you’re not there yet, knowing that you’re on the right path causes you to be at ease.


This morning as I sit with a toddler sipping milk on the sofa, and my man getting ready to head out for the day, I listen to the sounds of Summer. I feel like I am trying to rush the writing today, to force the lazy daisy-chain of my thoughts out into this post. To fill up the page with both lovely images and flowery words. It’s a stretch though. Like a crocus pushed up through the snow in late Winter, the meaning I’m trying to get across is shivering out there. Not yet ready to fill a page, still growing toward the light.


There is this corner of my yard where the sun shines a little brighter. The heat bounces off the house and the little pond that’s situated there and the plants grow a little bigger, and bloom a little sooner. It is one of my favorite places in the garden. On this corner the Japanese Iris have been blooming for a full week now and my first peony opened there  just yesterday. The lilacs and creeping phlox have already passed their prime and I am anxiously awaiting the first wild roses buds. This corner reminds me that it only takes a slightly different micro-climate to draw out growth. The season in this patch of my garden is ever so slightly ahead of the rest of my yard. Maybe that’s true for me more than the crocus that wakes too early in Spring and has to huddle under a blanket of fresh snow.

I think I might be just the teensiest smidge ahead of the words I’d like to pour out onto this page. I need to slow a little, not rushing the Summer along, but sitting in it. Waiting for the words to come and the time for them to be just right. I hope you will wait too, if that’s where you’re at. A waiting place is a good one, especially when you have a garden to do the waiting in.


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