It’s been a biblical sort of summer — lots of water and wine.
We moved in May into a home with a blank canvas for a yard. The past months have been a flurry of planting and watering and more planting and watering. The open canvas of dirt beckoned a paintbrush to add hollyhocks, hummingbird mint, zinnias, lilacs, perennials of all colors and shapes, climbing roses and rose bushes, lilacs, aspens, apricot and apple trees, cottonwoods and locusts. Noé said living with me this summer was like living with a badger—every time he looked out a window, dirt was flying!
We planted trees by moonlight. I started each day watering by 5:00 am. The morning rhythm included slipping on a robe, candles, coffee, pull on boots, step outside, inhale stars, pull up the handle of the hose, water, come in to write, back outside to water. Coming home from work, I headed straight to the hose, ruined some very nice heels, and started the rotation of watering all.
The flying dirt, the watering, the planting and more planting represented the physical sinking of roots in an unexpected move—the human craving of familiar rhythms, which in the summer for me means giving bouquets grown in my garden.
In the last 20 years, the ground around our home has gone untended. We cleared and raked, thinned and hauled. My boots worn into comfort, scuffed and scraped, on the ranch held the cholla thorns mostly at bay and walked many, many miles this summer. So much of my life is spent in front of a computer—I welcomed the physical exertion and sweat of walking, hauling, loading, and digging outside. Actually, it felt great!
“Make hay while the sun shines,” took on new meaning. This summer was about doing as much as possible outside. Indoor projects can be done during winter months.
A hawk came to visit as I watered one evening.
The rhythms of summer included a wedding, exquisite in detail and overflowing with love.
I just brought in the inside plants to live in my writing room for the winter. This marked the deepening of a season. We anticipate the first frost soon.
I look forward to the brightness and life of these flowers, when all outside is frozen and grey. I study the new plants each morning and evening and wonder what the spring will bring.
I hope the wild sunflower seeds, gathered from along the highway and roads, and tossed around our property will take root.
Chile ristras now replace the geraniums and flowers next to our gate.
As I look outside my the window of my writing room to see the little white lights which now give shape to the branches outside in the darkness I think of Ecclesiastes 3, “To every thing there is a season, and a time and a purpose under heaven.”
I look forward to this new season of looking within, of deep writing, of wondering which tender roots will make it through the winter to emerge in spring.
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October 25, 2015 at 4:53 pm
color and beauty in words and life
October 29, 2015 at 1:53 am
Sherry – so glad we share the color and beauty in words and life of both of our journeys.
October 24, 2015 at 2:28 pm
Dearest Dawn,
You have created and are a lovely garden in the desert. I so look forward to each picture and writing.
XXOO
Cathy
October 29, 2015 at 1:52 am
Dearest Cathy, I so look forward to reading what you’ll write. Our connection and roots across the miles – from Texas to the desert. Much love! Dawn
October 23, 2015 at 2:54 pm
Thank you for sharing this passage in your life. It took me back to a time 25 years ago in my life when we started to build a house and garden in Santa Fe. We think we know all about living at times and then we remember that it’s passages are really a deep mystery. If I knew a blessing for a new home I would send it. If I come across one in my reading I will do just that.
Connie Durand
October 29, 2015 at 1:49 am
Connie, thank you so much for sharing the deep mystery of life’s passages. This made me reflect on many of my own passages in life – and their mystery, sometimes beautiful and sometimes challenging. Thank you so very much for this. I feel your blessings in our new home. Gratitude, Dawn
October 23, 2015 at 2:36 pm
Gorgeous photos and words, Dawn! What a handful of possibilities you have with those wild sunflower seeds.
October 29, 2015 at 1:44 am
Wendy, wonderful to hear from you! What a poetic expression with that handful of possibilities! Thanks so very much for taking the time to write.
October 21, 2015 at 1:02 pm
Ondina, mil gracias por conectado aquí! Ya estamos en el Kids Campus, nuestras oficinas de antes, otra vez. Espero que estés bien y me encantaría verte para unas platicadas!
October 21, 2015 at 1:41 am
What beautiful imagery. I’m sure your and your flowers roots will sink deep with love and honor of the land. Great Bible reference. One of my favorites. I wish you many blessings in your new home.
October 21, 2015 at 1:17 pm
Carmen, I love that wisdom from Scripture, as well. Reminds of of the seasons of life again and again. Thanks so much and here’s to both of our roots!
October 20, 2015 at 2:32 pm
Oh how delightful! I have never b/4 seen a “feathered hollyhock” gorgeous! Wow, you have been busy!
October 21, 2015 at 1:15 pm
Dear Micki, I had never seen a feathered hollyhock either! Aren’t they grand? So glad to share with you. Much love, Dawn
October 20, 2015 at 1:48 pm
Nice post, Dawn. Great way to start my morning.Anne
Anne Hillerman http://www.annehillerman.com http://www.wordharvest.com Author of Rock with Wings and Spider Woman’s Daughter published by HarperCollins
October 21, 2015 at 1:15 pm
Thanks so much, Anne. Happy Rainy Morning to you! Dawn
October 20, 2015 at 1:44 pm
Thanks for sharing. It was really a great read!
October 21, 2015 at 1:14 pm
South Dakota Cowgirl – thanks so much! Hope your Fall is going beautifully and thanks so much for taking the time to connect!
October 20, 2015 at 1:25 pm
Gettin’ physical feels sooo good, doesn’t it!! I’m with you and hope to be starting our gardens and trees from scratch this spring. We are terracing the yard this fall. Thanks for the eloquent update Dawn! Hugs for all-Rach
October 21, 2015 at 1:06 pm
Rachel, yes, it does! And your gorgeous art is the centerpiece of our yard and the dewdrops are hung so that all see when coming into our home. And you’re starting your gardens and trees from scratch this spring? Go, you! I’ll be with you in spirit. LOVED the photos of our reunion. So wish I could’ve been there with you all. Much love, Dawn
October 20, 2015 at 12:56 pm
I can’t think of a much better combination than water and wine with lots of blooming flowers and trees in the mix. Thank you for sharing your inspirational writing and photographs.
October 21, 2015 at 1:05 pm
Dear Jane – water, wine, lots of blooming flowers, and trees, yes a wonderful combination. 🙂 So very good to connect with you. Thanks so much for taking time. Hugs to you and Charlie!!
October 20, 2015 at 12:27 pm
Oh, Ashley, this poem is exquisite – and so very perfect. Thank you so much for sharing this! I was thinking of you in your own new home with these new rhythms and felt us hauling, planning, planting, and sinking new roots together across the miles. I so look forward to your coming to stay with us in our home one day. The little owl is peeking at me now by candlelight. I’ve read and read this poem. Now, for another time. Thank you again. Much love, Dawn
October 20, 2015 at 6:01 am
As always, I love reading about your life, and seeing your exotic photos. I spent my late summer in much the same way, hauling rocks, planting tress and shrubs–winter is breathing down our necks and it is almost time to toss in the garden gloves, but not yet. This spoke to me today:
Indian Summer
Emily Dickensen
These are the days when Birds come back
A very few—a Bird or two
To take a backward look
These are the days when skies resume
The old—old sophistries of June
A blue and gold mistake
Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief
Till ranks of seeds their witness bear
And softly thro’ the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf
Oh Sacrament of summer days
Oh Last Communion in the Haze
Permit a child to join
Thy sacred emblems to partake
They consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!
October 20, 2015 at 4:17 am
Summer naturally being the busy time of year, you were certainly tuned in to nature with your fast paced summer at the new house. You have transformed the house to a home in a mere season and your flowers will so off for you next year. The picture of the turquoise gate nearly knocked me over, just stunning; I was not ready for that! Thanks again for Dewdrops and I’ll be wishing you a quiet, reflective winter. Big Hugs, Dan
October 20, 2015 at 12:25 pm
Dear Dan, this summer was definitely one attuned to nature, wasn’t it? I hadn’t realized this would run so deep when we moved. This house feels ever more like a home and the rhythm of watering, planting, and watching things grow created a foundation to the summer. Thanks so much for sharing in all! The turquoise gate – isn’t that great?! So glad you enjoyed. The flowers in my writing room used to be clustered around the bottom. Fall brought ristras, of course. Here’s to a winter of turning inward. Big hugs to you! Dawn
October 20, 2015 at 3:15 am
Such an inspiring and lovely post, my friend. Indeed you are a gifted writer. Love, Patty
October 20, 2015 at 12:19 pm
Dear Patty, thanks so much for taking the time to write in your own new chapter of moving and new roots. Love and love, Dawn
October 20, 2015 at 2:08 pm
Un lugar sonador para vivir, que suerte amiga, me haces falta para verte y dar unas buenas platicadotas. Saludes
October 29, 2015 at 6:37 pm
agreed ❤
October 29, 2015 at 6:40 pm
I was trying to agree with Patty’s comment, but it’s come up as a separate post I think – ho hum. Anyway, waaaaaaa to long since we’ve gotten together. I’d love to see you beautiful hacienda style living, and to share my little urban garden (it does have a hot tub, and of course, wine)
October 20, 2015 at 3:14 am
Dawn you really have a gift for words. I enjoy Dewdrops tremendously. Keep us the good work.
Love, Sharon & Roland
October 20, 2015 at 12:18 pm
Dear Sharon and Roland, thanks ever so much. I am so grateful that we are still connected across the years and miles! Love to you, Dawn