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Wednesday, August 19, 2015

July 23, 2015

Waning July. The gardens, though still beautiful, are showing signs of weariness. Weeds, on the other hand, are lush and robust, boldly crowding in among the carefully cultivated blooms. No matter how much time I spend tugging and tossing them, in a matter of days, there they are again—imposters, pretending to be something they’re not.
Ever notice that? The weeds that grow near certain flowers have a similar look to the cultivated plant? Of course it’s the bloom (or lack of) that tells the tale.
Good spiritual lesson there. We can grow near the nurtured plants, pretend to be drawing from the Source, but it’s the blossoming and fruitfulness that speak the truth.
Ah well. It’s late July, time for trimming shrubs and weeding places that seem least likely to support any kind of green. I speak of driveway cracks and pavement edges, the dark stony under-porch spaces where nothing should grow. Yet there they are. Well, I guess there’s another lesson in that—bloom where you’re planted.
BackPorch is still our favorite spot in the early morning hours, but already the dawn is markedly delayed—the daylight hours have, by late July, diminished considerably.
Hare Hollow Woods is a bit quieter as well, the morning songs more tentative and muted, the evening ones as well. Raising growing families and preparing them for the long trip south consumes the migrators daily efforts. And those who winter over are just as busy. Not only are they feeding ravenous babies, but trying to set aside winter stores as well!
The chipmunks and squirrels are stuffing bellies and cheeks as fast as they can nibble. And MouseHouse members as well. Fivelina is already gathering grasses and milkweed for this year's quilting bee. After all, being a grandma now, she has even more cozy things to turn out for the seasons ahead.
Yikes, and I thought I had a lot to do keeping ahead of the weeds!

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