This promises to be a very busy weekend, with gardening and getting some more herbs into the garden and meeting the children for brunch tomorrow. And I've resolved to savor every moment, inspired by a lovely piece written by the lady I mentioned the other day---Tonja at GATHERINGS.
And as we bid adieu to May and step upon the promising cusp of June---I hope we'll all vow to notice and heed and enjoy and take joy from every moment. I look forward to the choosing of the plants, the hug of the green against my shirt as I load the car, the scent and feel of the dirt against my fingers as the bright promise of growth and flavor and bloom goes into the ground.
I'm making it a point to look at things in a different light, to take the hope and the real of them, to snatch them up and inhale and taste and heed; and I hope that it's infectious. Today is the wedding day of a dear online friend I've never met, and I'm sharing her joy and anticipation; it's a sad day for another friend who has expressed her intent to end her blog. And I feel both of their feelings---the bright happiness of one, and the deep searching pain of the other.
I read another blog, by a writer whose words sear the page with imagery and imagination and the most evocative language for the spell she's weaving, with words that cut like razors and send her message in a flash of meaning. I don't think even her vast intelligence lets her comprehend the gift that she bears.
And I want to hug and taste and laugh and run and squat in that age-old posture that bespeaks planting good things in the earth---feeling the sun on my face and the breeze from the honeysuckle and the damp grass through my sandals. And while I go out and embrace all the glories of this day, I'd like to give a gift of this, for it's worth sharing:
I hope we'll all embrace the day with the bright-eyed lusty joy in the newness of the first of things, and the wide-open hearts and eager hands which would surely encompass the last.