A Simple Life

We've just passed a monumental event in the astronomical calendar - the "Supermoon". The local and national news outlets were all abuzz for days before. I am not sure why, since the majority of their audience is urban, and could not enjoy much of the scene except when the orb was overhead. But as I get older, I seem to fall for these "once in a lifetime" calls, even though the last supermoon was a mere 18 years ago, and maybe I will be alive for the next one. (Wikipedia: The Moon's distance varies each month between approximately 357,000 kilometers (222,000 mi) and 406,000 km (252,000 mi) due to its elliptical orbit around the Earth (distances given are center-to-center).^[4][5][6]
According to NASA, a full moon at perigee is up to 14% larger and 30% brighter than one at its farthest point, or apogee. The full Moon occurring less than one hour away from perigee is a near-perfect coincidence that happens only every 18 years or so.<sup>[7])

Here in the country, we relish each full moon. Any excuse to witness the pull of the lunar face gives us a special occasion. I can count over a dozen special full moon occasions without a blink of an eye. And with Joe we mark some piece of every moon phase via telephone if not closer.

Hopefully, when exhorted to witness such a phenomenon, I will be sufficiently ignorant of the actual timing. That gets me out in time to see the sun go down. Magnificent, in just about any weather, really, but we've had clouds and intermittent rain enough to give us some variety. Look west for a clear glow. East, in search of the moon, leads to a very subtle but enjoyable reflection of colors from the west on those eastern clouds.</sup> 

Then finally I spot it edging above those lovely pink and purple clouds on the horizon. The "find" is exciting on it's own, since the location on the horizon is always a bit of puzzle.  From then on, it's a smile on the rise. Clouds and colors change, sounds in the background mute. If I let go, it seems it is just me and the moon connected in the moment.

And then, with darkness descending, it's all "ahhhh". The rising moon is hypnotic- maybe even an instinctive reaction evolved over millions of years. It takes me out of the present, into the deep expanse of the space between  touch and sight. The very incremental steps from light to dark,and then from dark to moonlight, unveil the slow, steady, constant of a day- nothing remains the same, always.

We came all this way to explore the Moon, and the most important thing is that we discovered the Earth.  Bill Anders

What a difference a rain makes

I am stuck inside today. It is raining now, and they say it plans to rain for the rest of the day, at least. Does that sound like a complaint? Well, ok. Maybe a little. But after years of drought coupled with intense heat, I shouldn't complain. And after time in the last month to visit gardens in the area, I am reminded- finally- of the reasons for this blog title. We've had such an abundance of good soaking rain this winter and spring. And it continues now into summer. 

Gardens are really lush this year; 

flowers are huge and abundant; colors are vibrant and rich. 

If you'll permit me this little mental exercise, I think it's been a good thing to have been so deprived. Hydrangeas, for example, have bloomed every year, even in the worst drought months. I've gotten used to small flower heads, dull colors, and quick fade.

 This year I can hardly believe the difference, and it is so energizing!


Once again I see why this is a favorite of southern gardeners.
I am almost compelled to get my tape measure out to boast about bloom size. I've been so much more attentive to pruning, because this year, the plants are growing instead of just surviving.


Textures and colors grab my attention. Conifers have been particularly robust and statuesque. While they love good drainage, it is easy to see that they love the extra water, too.

Take the time to look at the details. Take the time to share them with your gardening friends. The rain might stop any day now, but we can enjoy the results of yesterday's rain today.

Sometimes it takes rain
To make the flowers grow
Sometimes it takes real pain
Before real joy one knows
Sometimes it takes tomorrows
To understand days gone by
Sometimes before the laughter
There comes heavy sigh
Sometimes it takes the midnight hour
To value morning light
Sometimes it takes the longest mile
Before things come insight
Sometimes you often wonder
Why your heart can get so sore
But its the rocky paths in life
That makes you cherish the smooth roads more!

- Unknown

Fine Tuning

Finally the spring season is slowing down. Of course there is still plenty of work to do, but the pace of the work now bends to the heat, the continued blessing of afternoon showers, and the absence of deadlines. I especially love the leisure time of early light, before the sun comes up. The temperatures are muted then, as well as the colors, the wind, my thoughts, and the length of the "to do" list. I can just look, enjoy, and take some pictures, wherever I am.

 Now I have the time and inclination to step back a bit and let the natural symmetry flow....I've also made the choice to spend my time listening to music I have been missing.

It seems to calm my thinking, to mellow my moods, and to open up new rhythms.  When I can relax and step back as I step out, I see interesting patterns- like musical themes- echoing, modulating, recapitulating.

 A secondary theme includes the rich abundance of buds and their resulting fruits or cones. I am not sure I have noticed how often they line up up like staccato notes.

 Even raindrops will hang in linear unison like eighth notes that alternate and repeat.

Needles appear and expand into flowers; pendulous branches appear to be ghostly reminders of a haunting melody. Round, full , solid notes stand us in the center of the natural recital. Such a rich concert of magical musical phrases and colors deserves our attention from time to time.



T

“The earth has music for those who listen.”

― George Santayana