Late Summer prepares to bloom: Cardinal Flower in my Garden
All day yesterday was cool and breezy, an anomaly of weather about which I am not complaining. As I tended my garden in the blue dusk I felt Summer beginning to pull up the hem of her dress, preparing for her long journey south. I was not exactly sad about it, for there are plenty of green days ahead of us, and no doubt some of those days will be warm enough for swimming in the river (which is why summer exists), but still, I had a twinge of anxiety.
Big changes are afoot.
At the end of August my two children will be returning to school after five years of homeschooling. On the heels of that huge shift comes September, a month of adventures for me. Not only do I have my residency at the Porcupine Mountains, but I also will be traveling to Seattle to attend a dream workshop led by Robert Moss. And the work continues on my new studio. She will be ready soon for my occupancy. I will move the tools of my creative life–my easel, my printers, my desk, my pastels–out of my home-based studio and into an entire house. Off a highway. And I will go to work in the morning.
Like Summer I am pulling up the hem of my dress–the long dress of motherhood. It is a dress I will always wear, it is adorned with beads and ribbons and vibrant embroidery, it is the finest dress of my life. But I am getting out my scissors, I am shortening the hem. It is time for more movement and boots and strong legs. I hold the scissors in my hand and survey the hem. I must be brave. I must make the cuts.