Summer Slow-Down

The flowers of summer.

One week into my “summer slow-down” and I can already feel its effects. There was an entirely different essay brimming in my brain for this week, but I thought to myself, “No, it’s not a week for another rant-grief-oversharing-lesson learned piece. I think it’s time for a thank you.” So, thank you. To all of you who read, heart, share, subscribe¹ and comment and keep me at this writing thing. It gets me through the day and hopefully drops a little love into yours.

The picture above is one I composed and posted to my Facebook page. As I admired my work, I realized there’s nothing that says “slow down” like stopping to smell—or photograph—the flowers. (Sadly, my roses were past their prime or I would totally have nailed that idiom.) As I try to unwind the stressors that have taken up space in my mind, body and heart, my sleep is not always cooperating. It’s not terrible—just not consistent. So, this morning when I thought the clock read 6:46, but it was actually 5:46, and I tried to close my eyes for another hour or so, my brain said, “Nope. I’m already up and at ‘em. Try to keep up.”

Overnight, it had rained, and the sun wasn’t out shining its forecasted grueling heat yet, so I walked around my front yard to look at all the new flowers springing up. There’s bee balm, morning glory, milkweed (with a bee who was very annoyed at my intrusion!) hydrangea, echinacea, and my bowl of pansies I keep at the front door. I think the orange ones are tiger lily and the tall white one is a mystery to me—in residence in the garden when we bought the house 23 years ago.

This garden is my whole front yard—there’s a strip of grass between the retention wall and the house to keep mown, but all along the street, from my driveway to the neighbor’s boundary is garden—wild, everchanging, in need of weeding garden. A gift that keeps on giving. Neither Angelo and I are much of a gardener, so we fuss and fiddle every year, but we are always surprised and delighted with what comes up each season. (Our azaleas are epic!) Some things we planted and some things we’ve had to remove (what were those shrubs anyway?) but all in all the garden was here before we arrived and will no doubt (and hopefully) be here long after we’re gone. It’s really a magical place.

The azaleas 2022 (some of them!)

Slowing down has first allowed me to feel grateful that I am in a place I can do such a thing. In my home, and for all the beauty, the safety and the love. And it’s given me time to think more thoroughly and not rush through this email or follow up on that text. I can sit with my thoughts and emotions and see where they take me. If I didn’t have such a comforting place to take in all the sadness and tragedies over the past ten years, I would be a much different person, I’m sure. And as the person I am now, I feel a deep responsibility to express that gratitude when I can. I can’t always do it—it’s not always present, but this week it is and it’s focused on you.

Thank you so much for all you to do keep me going, to remind me of friendship, support and laughter and beauty. You do that through everything I mentioned above and more. Sure, writing is something I’d do anyway, but this way? The way you allow me to do it? It’s a writer’s dream to share their work and know that it reaches people. So, thank you. I appreciate you.

See you next week. xo

The roses before they went on vacation.

1. A word of gratitude to you paid subscribers. You’re a writer’s dream with whipped cream and a cherry on top. Your support is truly allowing me to do this and I’ll never forget it. ♥️