Friday Ramble - Little Blue

On an overcast morning in late April, I am bending over a cluster of blooming Siberian squill in a corner of the garden when the thought comes to me for the nth time, the nth springtime, the nth calendar year.

The wildflowers coming up in the wooded alcoves of the Lanark highlands and this shaded corner of my garden are perfect, just as they are, and so are my recording lens and camera. Myself, not so much.

I have to cultivate the eyes and attention to see things in all their natural wabi sabi, their suchness. I have to cultivate the patience to wait for the wind to pause in its madcap dance and then click my shutter. Sometimes the exercises turn out, and sometimes I am rewarded by blurring, flickering and dancing coins of bokeh.

Life in the Great Round and the turning of the seasons are works of boundless blooming, of endless radiant becoming. This is the second springtime without my soulmate, and it was his favorite season of the year. On our morning rambles, Beau and I like to think of him as being in our pockets and enjoying the unfolding splendor of the great wide world. We still miss him so much, and we tell him we love him, every single day.