Autumn arrived in a timely manner in the Pacific NW, which is not to say the gnawing appetite of wildfires have been quenched and parched soil is sated. But these mornings request an extra layer of clothing as Sun allows himself a few extra winks before rising. Night lingers layering Earth with a breath that hints of colder days ahead. On the small smidge of Land I am calling home ten months after my initial move, I now feel a sense of welcome and belonging. Welcome and Belonging…something I always seem to be a on quest for. Glancing through old posts, it is a common theme, especially back in 2018-19 after my mother’s death that led to my “Sojourn with Grief.”
Lesson From My Mentor, Grief: Sitting With Discomfort While Embracing Beauty
Tulips began erupting from their sleek oval bulbs in April. Long stems hugged by thick winged leaves, one flower per stem. Colors the pastel pink of tongues, the vibrant red of heartbeats, the cream of moonbeams, the yellow of lemon drops held in cupped hands. Tulips surpassing their daffodil bulbed relations with a flourish by month’s end. One completing their laborious cycle, having awakened in late winter with tips barely gracing the earth to now drooping in browned petaled demise, waiting to fall back into dormancy. The other, as their cycle nears completion, throws open their petals with wild abandon, tossing them to the ground one-by-one leaving the stem bewildered, naked for all to see. Daffodils, my heart flower, resonates with the steadfastness that is the root of me. And yet, in slowing my pace during this pandemic time, the allure of tulips is calling to the wild in me. A wild that keeps bobbing to the surface with greater frequency with each passing year.
