Do you love where you live? I do–I’m a poster child for the “I love NY” campaign of the 1980s. I think the state in which I live is beautiful. (We’ll avoid the political mess of it, shall we?) My love of NY extends far from my home to the Adirondacks, close by to the shores of Lake Ontario, and very much to my own back yard.
Any time of year, I never tire of gazing at it, at wandering about and examining the plants and trees, even in the deep of winter when snows cover the gardens and there is nary a leaf in sight. Our yard isn’t meticulously landscaped nor is it weed free. There are remnants of my children’s projects scattered about, and our lawn is typically longer than most of our close neighbors. And yet, I love it. If you have a place which calls up a sense of serenity for you, a sanctuary of the heart and mind, then you’ll know how I often feel as I thread my way around the land over which my family has stewardship. It feels abundant, and so full of possibility.
Sometimes I feel lazy because I don’t weed enough, or take enough time to learn more about native plants, or the proper way and time to prune my beautiful fruit trees. It’s a practice, learning more about how to care for what we have and to let go and trust that without my “help” the life around me will go on. In this practice I find a sense of wonder at the cycle of the seasons and life, and joy bubbles up in me as I watch and anticipate it.
ps: Do you see the cottonwood stuck to everything in those photos?!?