After my very busy May, June has been a month of catch-up — a manuscript to polish, winter clothes to be put away, a summer garden to plant... Though my favorite season has always been fall, this go-round, I am looking forward to the long, fruitful days of July and August. Thanks to the previous owners of our home, staggered perennials welcome each morning with something new and colorful to celebrate.
More than a century ago, the poet William Wordsworth complained the world is too much with us. Once again it feels as if the troubles of the world have the potential to overwhelm us. How lucky I am for this joy-filled patch of land, this lush, comforting place to call home, this place where I may turn off the disheartening news of the day and contemplate the beauty of nature. My wish is that everyone had such a patch of comfort in their lives.
As I write this, a chipmunk scurries beneath a delicate globe of pink blossoms. It's good to remember that there are yet places where hatred and hostility do not intrude. It's good to have a place where hope blooms undisturbed.