Category Archives: local haunts

Last week was a long one, and I never could get caught up on sleep. By the time Friday night rolled around, we had a house full of girls and a college soccer game to attend, and the game went into overtime. I barely remember collapsing into bed that night.

Saturday morning came, and my alarm went off just after six. It was so tempting to turn it off. The sun was just starting to stream in through the open windows, the breeze was cool, and the sheets and blankets felt so good. The girls would be sleeping a few more hours if we let them, and I felt like it was perfectly rational to want to stay in bed and grab some more sleep.

Ten minutes later I got up. I knew that this was my time, and that I never regretted it when I took it. I threw on running clothes this morning instead of yoga ones. My yoga instructor wasn’t teaching that day, and I had decided to go for a long run after my morning garden walk. I checked the temperature outside, and threw on a sweater over my tank. I made a quick peanut butter sandwich to carry me through the next three hours and my run, and headed out the door.

The garden seemed quieter on this day. It’s never busy during that first hour of the walking hours, but I was surprised at how empty it was. Maybe everyone else had a similar reckoning moment beneath the sheets. I didn’t mind. An empty garden is my favorite, although I enjoy the quiet nods from others as we walk.

The sun seemed higher than it should be for September – it was a cloudless morning, and warming quickly as it began. The bees and butterflies were abundant, busy and still in turns.

I almost skipped bringing the camera – sometimes I convince myself that I’ve seen it all before, it hasn’t changed that much since my last walk. And then I’m reminded that it’s always changing, and I find new blooms and colors and views that I’ve missed.

The camera lets me look in different ways. I enjoy the heaviness of it in my hand.

I left my car at the garden and ran for the next hour and a half – to and around a nearby park, and up and down the tree-lined streets of the neighborhood. When I returned to my car the lot was nearly full, the garden fully open, streams of people filing in the doors with sun hats and strollers. I was headed home to smells of breakfast and a warm shower and a pot of coffee just for me, feeling more rested and relaxed than any good snooze button could offer.

I’m behind on a lot of things this August. The push of the new school year and the push of the end of summer frenzy collided and filled the days and the evenings. Last night was an open night – one of the first in a long while. We ate leftovers and folded laundry and returned to our library books and reasonable bedtimes. This morning marks the true shift – the start of E’s second week of high school, and F’s first day of third grade.

So I’ve cleared off my camera card from the last four or five visits to the garden. Some are overcast days, cool and dewy. Some are sunny and hot and humid. One was a visit with both girls, one was an early morning walk with just M and my coffee. All were centering points in these busy weeks of summer’s end.

I might work backwards a bit – catching up on things that I missed here. Celebrations and trips and projects. We’ll see. Carving out the space to write isn’t easy, but sometimes there’s a quiet moment here and there to catch up.

It’s been a good summer, and I’m missing it already. The routine of school days is nice, but the fading evening light seems early this year. I’m ready for some cooler weather, but not the loss of light. Not quite yet.

The shadows will change once again in the mornings, and we’ll wear jackets soon for the visits.

A good summer, one of the best. One that’s left me with more pictures than words, for a change.

It’s so hot this week, but I’ve missed the garden so I went anyway. There was an abundance of pinks, and I especially loved the corals/russets/plums near the entrance to the Linnean House. Just beautiful in the early morning light.

It was already in the high eighties by seven o’clock, and the sprinklers were running full force as I walked. I kept looking for shade, but that low sun sneaks in everywhere. It was hard to stay cool.

Sometimes the path forward got interesting – I wrapped my camera in my shirt and made a break for it.

The garden paths are kind of lonely without F. I ducked out early to the boxwood garden instead.

The misters were going here, and the sunlight caught the water in the air in the most magical way.

I would wait for them to stop before I pulled my camera out, but they were cycling on and off every minute, so it wasn’t an easy task.

I walked for an hour and then headed over to SweetArt for breakfast. A rare quiet morning on my own – I took a book and my camera and settled into the silence. It felt good. Sweaty, but good.