Today, I’m grateful for the variety of black-eyed susans still blooming in my garden.
Many flowers have gone by already and temperatures are threatening to dip into the thirties soon. So, I’m enjoying these while I can. A friend gave me some black-eyed susans from her garden many years ago. I haven’t planted any of them since then. They just pop up all over my front gardens every spring. It’s like they feel right at home here. 🙂
I bought them for myself. Grocery shopping is not a pleasant task for me, made more uncomfortable by the Covid-19 pandemic. Feeling like I needed a pick-me-up the other day, I chose a deep red bouquet just for me. Sometimes, that’s all it takes. 🙂
Today, I’m grateful for a quiet Labor Day weekend.
In a normal year, this weekend would be busy with cookouts and get-togethers. Even if we weren’t hosting a party ourselves, there’d be neighborhood gatherings with lots of cars parked along the streets and lots of people coming and going. Instead, the summer is leaving the same way it arrived—in the midst of a pandemic. And life is quieter, in general.
Today, I’m grateful for neighbors stopping to admire our hibiscus flowers.
At first glance out my window, my grumpier self thought that the dog-walking neighbors were letting their dogs use my corner bush as a dumping ground. Then, I realized they were photographing the hibiscus flowers. What a happy thing to have something that brings joy to passers-by! And a few minutes later, I saw another neighborhood family doing the same thing. 🙂
For the last few years, I’ve bought zinnia seedlings from The Herb Farmacy in Salisbury, MA. There are so many fun, colorful varieties. I keep meaning to grow them from seed myself, but each year I seem to forget, until it’s too late. So, I’m thankful to have any at all to brighten up my garden.
Today, I’m grateful for the hibiscus blooming at the front corner of our yard.
Almost every year, like clockwork, it blooms on the first day of August. The lunch-plate sized flowers open their pink and white faces to the sun and last a few days each. As the first flowers droop, more open, making a spectacle for passers-by for at least the rest of the month.
Nasturtium foliage is full and fun. I almost forget sometimes that flowers will eventually bloom out of it. The variety of small red, orange, and yellow blossoms are a joy to see peeking out between my squash and tomato plants. 🙂
None of us wants to grieve. But to feel grief is to prove that love exists. We can’t grieve without first being able to open our hearts to let someone else’s story, someone else’s journey, intersect with ours. Love and grief are two sides of the same coin, and we are richer for allowing ourselves to experience the whole spinning mess of it.