All three of my morning glories reached the top of my trellis this week! I put it up three summers ago, and it always felt extremely tall and optimistic, but now the blooms are flowing over the top and reaching for the gutters. Each morning I stand there with my coffee and watch. I know when they open, but the heat only lasts until about noon. Precious somehow, they remind me not everything needs to perform all day long.
As I grow older, my thoughts on this issue continue to deepen. While many of us are taught to keep going, optimizing and maximizing everything, other things in the world understand that only certain experiences require full participation, and the rest of that time is solely for breaks. The garden gets this. The fireflies get this. They put on their show, then they're done. No apologies.
It finally happened. I defeated the living room rug. I rolled it up and put it in the garage. Four years I bled for this moment, adjusting it and tucking it, cursing the thing under my breath every time it tripped any of my guests. The wood floors are scuffed and imperfect, and I love it. Sometimes it’s not about fixing the problem, it’s about based off what you used to really love about the space, and then remembering that you loved it. It took me long enough to figure it out.
I love that I have so many tomatoes, but they’re coming in faster than I can use them, which is a bit stressful. To get rid of some, I’ve taken to leaving bags of tomatoes on my neighbors’ porches like a fairy. No notes and no expectations. No explanations. Just, “I grew too much, these are yours to keep.” One of my neighbors texted me to say that she made tomato sauce. Another neighbor left a warm loaf of tomato bread on my porch. That is the type of trade I enjoy!
June is here! When you feel that everything is thick and heavy with the weight of growth. These are the days where moving a little slower feels right, watering a little earlier feels important, and accepting that nothing will be perfect feels like a relief. Just bloom when you can, rest when you need to, and don’t forget to pass on the excess tomatoes!
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Notes from the Nest goes out to the email list first — little letters about home, the garden, and whatever I’m turning over that week. Come sit with us.
