Days feels subdued this time of year. The morning chorus is not as exuberant, the bird calls less riotous, the soundscape incorporates the hum of crickets and an occasional low note of a frog. The fog, and sometimes mist, rolls in too, in the beginning and end of the day, dampening the sounds, and increasing a sense of quiet. The days ebb slowly and gently into night, like neighbors lingering at a garden fence before they move on, to their next destination. Gardens demand less digging, more tending, as the photo below demonstrates.

Perhaps all the captivating sound and drama that amazed us in early June still exists in July-August, only spread out more evenly now throughout the day, with less dips and spikes.

Whatever it is, I feel a shift. And, I confess, I feel it as foreign. I tend to relish the whitewater of early summer ~ the whitecapped filled crashing of waves, the musical conversations lingering in the air, the unknown, the chorus of possibilities.

Now, the river of summer, has lead me into a calmer waterway with banks wide, pace slow. I feel as though I am on a riverboat where the activity entails watching the occasional jumping of fish, or the chittering fishers. It is luxuriant, evenly paced.... Regardless, I can't find its rhythm. I find that my inner rhythm, the one that tends to seek the noise, the laughter, the crest of the wave, feels at a loss. What am I to do? What is the most precious thing calling me now? What is this energy? and how do I synchronize to it?

Long gone are the days of Solstice with its high voltage push to create; now, here, is a slower thoughtful pace. Perhaps this quiet is like the easy space between words in a conversation amongst friends who don't always need to speak, who find comfort resting in long lapses of silence. How do I learn to slow to this new rhythm?

I shall start by asking myself, what do I hear, feel and see?

I hear a low buzz of a bee, and then a quicker one of a hummingbird, passing en route to a flower. I hear the ever present gift of crickets, chirping their tune for themselves. I hear the titmice fledglings confidently calling in a laughing tone to each other.

I feel a breeze called up by the trees. I feel the growing humidity of the day slowing my breath and movement. I feel the damp dew under my feet.

I see... Ahh, I see, the green. everywhere. The gift of Vermont. I see the flowers to be, flowers still fresh and flowers spent, passing on their pollen. As though time is unraveling in the slowed down pace of motion pictures.

Now, I have slowed enough to hear the wind that whispers too, "notice me." A wind that brings a smile, saying, here, here, here. I feel the wind on my face and how it embraces the creatures as the wave passes. The wind has opened my eyes and I see the radiance inside all these lives. The life force that is shimmering in the light, beckoning you and me to receive the gifts present. Here, now, pulse, breathe, listen. Listen to the light of now, here. pause, be and, make room for all this light. And, Radiate. Radiate your light, our light.

The subtle winds of nurture and care of early summer have shifted gently and not so subtly to Notice and attend to the light within and the light without. Let them have dialogue, give them time to pause too, as if they are old friends, where there can be both moments of cacophony and moments of silence. Let the unknown creep in with ease so that magic can unfold before your eyes in a diversity of song.

I see the light shining off the green life around me. Which makes it sure hard to pull out that bolting lettuce in my garden ~ it is so pretty in reds and greens, I move a few over, to give room for the new. And leave a few for brilliance. I notice a self-sown mullein who nestles comfortably in the plot alongside with companion plants. I Ieave that friend too. Now, I can imagine the magic that may unfold here in this little bit of wild.

A little wild in my garden of summer offering me the most magical gifts of light.

The harvest from the wild is a gift
that once given opens a deepening
relationship between
given and gifted.
~RW Kimmerer