Pictured above: two dozen eggs with vibrant zinnia heads
The Invisible Middle
I love a beginning.
When everything still exists in possibility.
The first seedlings.
The first blooms.
The first harvest.
But there’s a problem with beginnings.
They end.
When the peppers are barely ripening.
The snapdragons are still trying to reflush.
The cherry tomatoes are collapsing under their own weight.
Where not every day ends with the flower field at its peak.
Or a lesson.
Or something ripe.
It is just today.
And tomorrow.
And the next thing that needs doing.
No tidy ending.
No way to look back and understand what any of it was for.
I’m trying to let myself be in that kind of season.
After the beginning, but before the ending.
With the marigolds that need deadheading.
The kale that needs another week before harvesting.
The eggs that need collecting.
I'll do what I can today.
I'll do some more tomorrow.
There are rows of calendula to weed.
There are chickens to feed.
There is garlic to braid.
So I’ll start there.
Sloan taking her afternoon porch shift very seriously
My first garlic braid since 2024 - a small but satisfying return
A quiet moment with a dahlia... that lasted approximately three seconds before interruption
The flower field, somewhere in the middle
Augtober
I was recently reminded that August is the last month before the 'ber' months (shout out Aunt Mary for this!)
Septem-ber,
Octo-ber,
Novem-ber,
Decem-ber.
And after our first night that dipped into the high 40s, there's already some autumn anticipation. Here's what I'm listening to this stretch of summer. For August - give or take.
Love,
Ris & Drew
And this lil rascal
