The girls were out late last night at the movies with us. We were all so tired from the week that we fell asleep reading in their beds – M in F’s bed, and me in E’s. Sometime around 2:30am we came to, and everyone was sorted out into their own beds. So when the alarm went off at six, I tiptoed around and left the others sleeping.
It was a nice morning to spend alone in the garden. It was still misting lightly on the drive over, although the rain had stopped by the time I arrived. It was overcast and cool, and I ordered a coffee at the counter before I headed outside. The same woman works on Wednesdays and Saturdays, and she has my cup out before I walk in the door. She waits to ring it up to see if I’ll be adding an apple to the order; today she noticed my apple eater wasn’t there, and she smiled and told me to enjoy my own company on my walk today. I feel like I’ve already been so present inside my head this week, but her reminder to me to enjoy that was just what I needed to hear. I consciously turned off the chatter and let the silence in.
I wandered every single path in the place for an hour, encountering less than a dozen people along the way. (Most were photographing the water lilies – I had to take this photo below!)
There was a whistler in the English Woodland Garden – I could hear his song as I wandered around the maze like paths in there. I climbed up the observatory, something that the girls always do, and I rarely do. There was no one in the maze below.
Purples, whites, greens, everywhere, in flowers and vegetables and fruits. I said hello to Henry for the girls, and to Carver. I startled birds and bunnies wherever I walked, even though I tried not to.
I carry my camera with me, and I always think my photos will be redundant, but they never are. In three days time you can see the evolution of a bud to flower; in a week’s time nothing is the same as it was before.
Don’t we know this to be true this week? I look for markers of newness and find orange lanterns among the green.