I love when the buttercups appear.
The heat is on as is my wool undershirt, my favorite piece of clothing. It is like a security blanket, keeping my core warm. A couple of days ago it was ninety degrees and I was swimming, today it is rainy and cold with temperatures in the low fifties. My kids and grandkids are able to adapt to the weather with ease. I will have on two layers of wool and they will be laughing and running about in a t-shirt. I will turn my heat on and they will still go for a swim. I feel as sensitive as a delicate orchid. Extremes of any kind no longer fit into my life.
The black flies are in full force. Supposedly they appear from Mother’s Day until Father’s Day so only a couple of weeks remaining. You do not feel them bite you nor hardly see them but this year my skin has reacted by swelling around the bites. The bites itch like mad and target ears, neck and forehead. Though that said, my legs have myriad bites also. Everyone is so desperate for sun after the long winter that you are ready to bare as much skin as you can. The prudent thing to do is to wear long sleeved pants and shirts during this time but the craving for sun on your skin is overwhelming. I remember being in England in May the year that I was twenty-one. As we strolled through the heaths around London, I was shocked to see office workers on their lunch hours, stripping off their tops to lie on the grass in their bras or bare chests. Pants and skirts were rolled high to let their legs feel the sun’s heat. It struck me how the need for sunlight is biological, like plants, turning to catch every ray.
The greens and a river of buttercups set my heart dancing.
My energy flows in sharp contrasts. A wave of exhaustion can make lifting my legs seem like a herculean task. It forces me to lie down until the next wave comes, that releases me to move. Dishes can pile up as the act of preparing food and eating can drain every ounce of energy. I may hop into bed with relief only to find myself still awake hours later. I tell myself, you are resting. That is good. Not enough energy to do anything with that time other than drift in a semi-dreamscape state. We will look back and wonder that we lived in the constraint of time. Schedules and planning will be things of the past that the young will not understand as they arrive knowing only the present moment. For now, alarms on my phone and writing notes to myself are what keep me tethered to arrangements in my life. Bright post its to catch my eye and jog my memory. Oh yes, today I am going to cook that chicken, pick up my grandson from school. I take out the chicken, set the alarm to give myself ten minutes grace to get ready and walk to the school. Sometimes I even have to label the alarms so as to know what I am to do. All part of the loosening, the moving into more fluidity, more flow.
Simple morning pleasures, coffee in my favorite mug and maple cinnamon sourdough bread. They mill the organic flour daily and bake this robust loaf. Yum!
Life becomes simpler as I attune to what needs doing on this level and set my intention to meet those requirements, allowing myself to flow the remainder of time. My grandkids are a part of that when they come to play. Most often it is one on one as they crave my sole attention and the five year age gap is large when you are two and seven. I allow them each to direct the play. They both have rich imaginations so we travel on their stories into new lands. We have cozy reading books time and active times with crafts and scarves and music. I marvel at their beautiful hearts and sweet natures.
Flowers and children keep my flame blazing as all shifts about us. The sun is streaming in through a filter of smoke drifting down from fires in Nova Scotia. We all affect one another in ways large and small. Let’s shine our light through the dimness and celebrate as our hearts feel the love that flows freely.
