On top of treetops, gilded leaves sway and swish with the evening breeze.Some days feel tropical while others brisk. These are the fleeting days of summer, where sweet morning bird songs are heard from under the covers and I’ll bother with breakfast after a few leisurely stretches. Now that we have reached the edge, skirting the darkness of finicky summer nights, a habit shift is in need, for gone are my kind of mornings. Now, I squeeze in a stretch or two in the evenings and pray for a night bird to sing a lullaby for our ears to revere just before our last waking moment.
Baby Bear is not a morning person; she’s too busy plucking chords like Alanis Morissette on her guitar and working on her heart song almost every night. She refuses what we all can’t wait for…sleep. Which makes it more difficult for me to orchestrate our mornings with fickle mood swings and faithful habits…inhaling and exhaling, my breathing slows.
This is my only time with my little bears one on one and while mostly we are silent in our walking slumber, we are present, and I am there if there should be a need. Into their soft eyes, I offer a few words of encouragement…steady and strong, a mountain so tall. I hope they hear bird songs along their path to the bus and perhaps witness a frolicking fawn or two nibbling on dewy grass. Surrounded by lush green flora, we don’t have to worry about herbs for enhancing our meals throughout the gloomy months that lie ahead, thanks to our greenhouse sanctuary. However, traipsing outdoors in my wilderness for the last few tomatoes on vines may culminate in tears. It’s time to pay closer attention to the well beings and to the habits of the greenhouse. Stem-by-stem, leaf-by-leaf, trimmings demand my attention. There will be transplants ahead, more to propagate, and more to gift away. Bit by bit, tending and preserving under the smoky skies, my fingers will continue to dig deep while my spirit shapes. This special turf that sings to me, every leaf, every single one matters for there’s something about the play of detail in my creative process that transcends time and terrain. Eventually the terra cotta pots that hold the citrus and avocado trees will make their way back into the nest. During the upcoming months, soil won’t have to be so moist as temperatures drop. Much obliged for this mini-conservancy in our nest for when my bones are chilled, it is in here where they’ll thaw slowly and tenderly around my verdant friends.Also, in this refuge is where my little apprentice loves to help. With a light-weigh device, she can help with all our thirsty flora, drip by drip. In this space where the floral whispers, the edge doesn’t feel so unbearable. It’s more exhilarating…can you feel it?