Every June I have noticed a hum that I always just assumed was some bug or bird, but this year I realized it was the sound of the world waking up and all the plants growing. I have started waking up early to watch the sunrise because as a garden enthusiast I find it calming to watch just like the excitement I get walking into a store this morning I went out early to stand on the coffee I got from the neighbors garden and all the plants turning dry and brown to green and alive. The bean plants are growing little the little green shoots that need to be staked soon so they don't fall over (stalking means cutting their mains). The weeds I wrote about a few weeks ago are crawling and consuming the trellis and are moving over the fence like they are invading. I can hear buzz possibly bees I can hear them but it just sounds like buzzing.
Like the warm weather I have started thinking about the possibilities this June. It has every promise and no regrets and for the time being it is all coming together like the house projects I have been ignoring are finally coming together. Like this universe was rewarding me all at once my knees didn't ache which is just like the universe to give me free range. I pulled out some dead plants in the front of the house and for once it was actually fun and I didn't just feel like I was behind.
I finally put up the curtains in the spare room that have been sitting in their packaging since March. They are linen and cream and nothing fancier than that, but they diffuse the light in such a way that the room seems softer and more deliberate. It’s funny how one little thing can completely change the vibe of a room. It’s an excuse to walk by that room to see the light more.
The strawberries are done for the season and I’m already a little nostalgic for those mornings, strawberries still covered in dew. However, my tomatoes are ready and I have been eating them for almost a week now at lunch with just salt and pepper. There’s something deeply rewarding to eat the food after watching it grow to what feels like an abundance. It makes you feel like you have some idea what you’re doing even when you are just winging it.
If you are reading this in your inbox right now, thanks for letting me ramble into your morning. It means a lot to me that you are here and that these observations are with you. I hope the same is for you in June.
Reading this somewhere other than your inbox?
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.
