We're sitting on the hot days of summer. Summer is an umbrella over our heads, and although every bird station have been filled with all sorts of goodies, the comings and goings of the feathered kind had quieted down a bit. As if birds have decided it is too hot even for them to move.
It must be the time of the butterflies, I presume... for as it is, they have invaded the garden these days, and you can find them everywhere—those fairylike little things flickering white light everywhere in the garden. Today, I saw the first black swallowtail... large, enchanting, and even mysterious. It flew out of the woods and it came fluttering around me as if perhaps saying "I'm here... I'm here!"
Now that I'm again working, I find my little heart yearning for solitude more and more, and I am terribly missing the freedom to enjoy those early morning hours of my days; hours always filled with delightfulness, and the magic waiting somewhere behind morning light.
The moment I get home this is where I'd go... to the garden, to the last of the Hemerocallis still holding its deep purple and orange blooms, and to the lavender liatris home of the wispy butterflies.
We just got back home from our little trip to
Florida, where we were
able to spend time with mom and dad and finally find a place to put mom... my little
heart is the jewel box where I'm keeping precious memories and feelings that refuse
to take form, and bring out the somber colors of life into fruition... I'm
burying my emotions somewhere deep in my soul, and I don't know whether this is a healthy or unhealthy way
to respond to painful emotions, but alas, I still choose to trust in that Jesus who
asleep in our boat...